


Saving an Angel

by quicksilvermalec



Series: Anything for You [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alec POV, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Alec Lightwood, BAMF Isabelle Lightwood, BAMF Magnus Bane, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Lots of Crying, M/M, Magnus POV, Malec wedding, Memory Loss, Oblivious Alec, Oblivious Magnus, POV First Person, Present Tense, Protective Izzy, alec doesn't know what's going on, alec is a queen, am i doing it wrong, am i tagging too much, but i'm personally v clizzy-jimon, can be read clizzy-jimon or clace-sizzy, idfk how to tag things help, isabelle is the best sister ever, izzy POV, izzy trusts magnus, magnus is also a queen, magnus just wants to protect alec, malec are such dads, probably really fuckin ooc, this is my first work on here, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilvermalec
Summary: When Alec Lightwoods wakes up in the Infirmary in the New York Institute, he has no idea what's going on. Eventually his family fills him in, but some things still aren't making sense.Not everything is as it seems, and everything is complicated even further when Alec realizes he's falling for a warlock with a glitter obsession and a penchant for trouble.(Canon-compliant through LoS.)





	1. Introduction: Alec

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clearfear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clearfear/gifts).



> Hello everyone! Welcome to 'Saving an Angel', my first fic on AO3. This project has been in the works since August of last year, and it has seen four drafts, two different formats, three word documents, and two fic-sharing web sites. I'm really happy about it, and please please PLEASE give me kudos and comments if you like it because... I'm a sad human being. This has been beta'd by the lovely @clearfear (via discord) and Grammarly. It is currently completed, but I will be uploading it over the course of the next week or so, about 2 chapters a day. (I can't wait.) Enjoy!

The world fades back into color. I don’t know where I am. The room is dimly lit. There’s something soft under me. My head hurts and my limbs feel like lead.

I groan softly as I push myself into a sitting position. I examine my surroundings, and once I’m more fully conscious it takes me approximately 0.3 seconds to determine my location.

But that makes no sense. Why am I in the infirmary?

I look around the room. On my left are three chairs; Jace and Izzy (both asleep) occupy two of them. The third chair is empty. To the right of my bed are two more chairs, both unoccupied. The door is open, filtering in a minimal amount of harsh white light from the Ops Center down the hall.

Jace is closest to me, so I shake him awake. He resists, preferring to drift back into the embrace of sleep until he sees my bedhead and confused face and snaps instantly awake. “Izzy,” he hisses. “Izzy!”

“What?” she mumbles blearily, shifting in her chair. There are red marks on her arm from the folds of her shirt. When she sees me, however, her eyes open wide. “Alec!” she exclaims. The shout causes a sharp pain in my head and I press two fingers to my temples.

“By the Angel,” I mutter. “What happened? I don’t… remember. Ah, headache’s a bitch, though.”

Izzy leans forward and places a hand on my leg, looking concerned. “Are you okay?” she asks me, completely ignoring my question.

I nod at her. “Little sore, and my head hurts, but besides that, I’m largely intact. How long was I out?”

Izzy looks at Jace, who checks his phone, and I follow her gaze. “Sixteen hours and forty-one minutes,” he informs me. I sigh with relief. “So not long.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jace asks me. He seems just as concerned as Izzy, but since neither of them will tell me what happened, I have no way of knowing why.

“I’m _fine_ , Jace,” I insist, rolling my eyes slightly. Izzy stands up and walks to the door, leaning her head out and shouting at the top of her very powerful lungs.

“Clary!” she screams, then comes to sit back down. After a moment, a scrappy redhead appears at the door, looking very red and a little out of breath. She gives my sister an expectant look. “Alec’s awake,” Izzy tells her.

“I can see that,” she says. Izzy glares at her for a moment, and when Clary just looks confused, gestures vaguely like she should know exactly what she wants.

“Get Magnus! He’ll want to know!” she yells like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Clary smacks her forehead and sprints down the hall.

“Magnus?” I ask. I don’t recall this name. “Who’s Magnus?”

Jace and Izzy look at me with identical expressions of shock and confusion. I don’t understand what’s happening.

“Alec, are you fucking with us?” Jace asks. I shake my head in denial.

“No, who’s this Magnus charac-” I choke off as a figure appears in the doorway.

A man strides confidently into the room. He’s a few inches shorter than me. His hair is dyed pink, purple, and blue, his face heavily made up. He’s wearing a holo gold jacket, a black skintight shirt, deep purple pants, and a thick layer of glitter. He sheds a little on the floor with every step he takes, and he sends me temporarily breathless. He’s straight-up indescribable.

_Holy shit_ , how gay am I?

And then my brain catches up with my eyes and I realize what I’m looking at. I almost leap out of the bed in an attempt to make a good first impression. I shove my right hand in his direction.

“Magnus Bane, yeah?” I am _not_ fangirling. “High Warlock of Brooklyn Magnus Bane?” Not in the slightest. “Tessa Gray and Will Herondale Magnus Bane?” I respect the guy a lot, that’s all.

Plus he’s totally gorgeous.

I wish I’d met him before.

I clear my throat, attempting to regain some of my composure. “I’m sorry. I’ve read a lot about you and some of the things you’ve done and you’re kind of famous and this isn’t really how I wanted to meet the High Warlock of Brooklyn but… I’m going to shut up now- _Jace why didn’t you stop me earlier_?” I turn to glare at my brother.

Magnus looks at me like a highly intriguing puzzle he wants to solve. “Alexand-” he stops himself in the middle of the word and hesitates for a second before continuing. “Alec,” he asks quietly, “do you know me?” His voice sounds small, shy, almost timid, a word my brain can’t seem to associate with this man, this warlock who just _exudes_ confidence.

“Only by reputation,” I reply cautiously, somehow knowing that that isn’t the answer that he wants to hear from me. But why would he care? Nobody knows Alec Lightwood. I’m the boring one out of my three siblings.

He sighs and avoids my eyes for a moment, then looks straight back up at me and whispers something else.

“Aku cinta kamu. Do those words mean anything to you?”

I shake my head slowly. “I can’t say that they do. I’m sorry.” I stare at him hopelessly, somehow feeling as if I’m letting him down, which is spectacularly bizarre because I don’t even know him.

He just nods and looks at my sister. “Isabelle, may I speak to you privately?”

Izzy nods, lips pressed tightly together, and follows him out into the hall, being careful to close the door behind them. Even so, I still hear my sister let out an exhaustive list of expletives in Spanish.

Something’s not right here.

“What’s going on?” I ask Jace, who is now the only other person in the room.

“We’re not sure,” he admits. “Alec, do you know what today’s date is?”

“August 11th, 2007?” I reply cautiously and uncertainly.

He looks shocked. “By the Angel… Alec, that was- _fuck_ , that was eight years ago!” He pauses for breath and his face noticeably pales; I can only assume he’s had an epiphany. “Eight years…” he whispers. He abruptly slams his hand down on the table next to my bed. “That fucking bastard!” he screams.

Magnus and Izzy come back into the room. Izzy pulls Jace out into the hall and Magnus clears his throat. “Alec,” he says, “I’m a friend of your sister’s. If you ever need anything – magic, a potion, to talk, to escape the Institute – I’m always awake, and my door is always open.” He extends the invitation so casually and cordially, I can’t help but wonder if it’s rehearsed.

Then, with the same confidence with which he entered, he strides out of the room.

From in the hallway, I hear Izzy’s shout of “eight _years_?” but I’m still pretty out of it. I’m not really registering anything that’s happening around me.

When Izzy and Jace come back in, I’m still staring at the open doorway where Magnus’ silhouette disappeared. “He’s an interesting person,” I say.

Izzy blinks. “What?”

“Magnus,” I clarify, finally looking at them. “He’s interesting. And hot.”

“He’s bi,” Izzy offers unhelpfully. I stare at her incredulously.

“You say that as if I wouldd _ever_ have a chance with him.” I give up pretending that I’m straight. I know that they both know.

And then Izzy launches herself at me, throwing her entire body over my shoulders, and Jace hugs me too. And they’re both crying and I comfort them even though by all accounts, I should be the distraught one.

Eight years of my life have been ripped from me. It feels like a figurative hole in my essence, dark and all-consuming. It swirls and pulls at my mind like a black hole, so I don’t go near it, don’t try to reach for those vanished memories, for fear of getting sucked up with them.

And then I do cry. I cry with my siblings, and we all just cry together for a long time. And then when I get to my room, I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.

It’s a relief.


	2. Ch. 1 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How did you know Jace and Izzy?” I ask.
> 
> He tries to dodge the question with a casual, “oh, friend of a friend,” but I’m not about to let him get away with that easily.
> 
> “Oh yeah?” I press, forcing a note of genuine curiosity into my voice in an attempt to mask the mischief. “What friend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry my people (but not really). I couldn't wait. I'm posting this in science.

The Institute is too bright, too loud. There are just _so many people_ , and they all look at me like they have no idea what to do with me. It doesn’t feel quite like the home I last remember it being.

According to Jace and Izzy, Simon and Clary are part of our team now and we run all our missions together in various combinations. I don’t doubt for a second that that’s true, but I don’t remember working with them, I don’t know how to work with them, and it’s awkward the way that they know all of my moves and I know none of theirs. All I ever remember is it being just Jace, Izzy, and I.

It’s so uncomfortable that I stop doing missions with any of them and only run solo missions. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism by any stretch but then, I’ve never been the picture of stellar decisions, hard as I might try. I’m as bad as Jace sometimes.

It’s been two weeks since I woke up in the Infirmary, and I feel trapped. I feel stifled in this old wooden building. I have to get the fuck out.

I remember Magnus’ invitation – I think about it a lot, actually. _I’m always awake, and my door is always open_.

I feel an unreasonable and totally irrational desire to see him again, which is why I stay away – I’ve never indulged myself in anything, save Jace and Izzy. They were the only love I let myself have. But I want to see him so badly that eventually my restraint fails, and I decide to test that theory.

That’s how, at 11:30 at night on a Tuesday, I find myself knocking on an unfamiliar dark oak door. When it opens, a beautiful Indonesian man is standing in front of me – this time devoid of either makeup or a shirt.

Somehow he’s even more breathtaking without five pounds of makeup on, and he’s surprisingly jacked. I can’t help staring at him for a few seconds.

I finally shake myself and clear my throat. I force myself to look at his face. He’s smirking widely, and I feel a blush creeping up my neck. “Hey, Magnus,” I croak hoarsely. My voice got really deep. Shit.

“Hello Alexander- I mean Alec,” he corrects himself. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, well you said if I ever needed to get out of the Institute I could come here, and… I guess I needed to get out of the Institute. Izzy gave me your home address.”

He smiles forcedly, pulling the door open wider and saying, “do come in.” There’s a strained note in his voice.

He goes into his room and I start to look around. There are two couches in the middle of the room, facing each other and separated by a glass coffee table. There are several armchairs around the room. There’s a flat-screen TV above the fireplace that I somehow greatly doubt is often used. It’s a well-decorated living space. The walls are made of brick and there’s a sliding glass door leading out to a cement patio with an excellent view of the cityscape.

After a couple minutes, he returns, thankfully wearing a shirt this time.

He drops down next to me on the couch (he’s so graceful even when he’s not trying to be – ugh!) and asks, “is there something specific on your mind?”

I sigh. Something about having the knowledge that he won’t judge me, that he’ll just listen, makes me want to open up to him. There’s something comforting about the idea that he never knew the Alec Lightwood that emerged during the eight years that I’m missing, that he’s not comparing Me Before™ to Me Now™. “I’m just… I’m just tired of people telling me who I’m supposed to be. I need someone that I can vent to about my life and my family and… I guess I was hoping you could be that friend for me.”

Magnus smiles, and this time it’s genuine. “Okay,” he agrees softly. “I can be that friend, Alexander Lightwood.”

I look at him curiously, unable to help the smile that creeps onto my face as I hear it. “How did you know that was my name? Everyone I know calls me Alec.”

He shrugs. “Isabelle told me.” He’s not lying – I can tell, somehow – but there’s a note of something _else_ in his voice.

I turn my upper body so I’m facing him more directly. “How _did_ you know Jace and Izzy?” I ask.

He tries to dodge the question with a casual, “oh, friend of a friend,” but I’m not about to let him get away with that easily.

“Oh yeah?” I press, forcing a note of genuine curiosity into my voice in an attempt to mask the mischief. “What friend?”

I can see the moment he realizes he’s not going to get out of this without telling me, but something that had been free, open, and vulnerable in his expression before slams shut now. Finally he speaks, and when he does, he’s looking past me, his expression far away, his voice soft and full of love.

“I… had this boyfriend, once,” he begins.

 _Thank the Angel he’s not straight,_ I think. Of course, Izzy had told me as much, but I didn’t entirely believe her.

He continues. “He was… well, he was everything. He was intelligent, brave, loyal, loving, and beautiful. He was a Shadowhunter, like you, closeted and afraid to be out, and his family was everything to him. He was terrified of letting them down.

“His life was difficult, and his parents were often hard on him. When he came out to them, he did it defiantly and brilliantly, as he did everything. He was never really one to half-ass anything. He treated everything as if it were highly serious, and he believed that there was no problem of someone else’s that wasn’t worth his attention and care, whatever his own personal problems of the moment were. He wouldn’t compare his issues to someone else’s.

“He was so young, so careful, so inexperienced. He’d never been in love before, and I was so afraid to be too forward, to drive him away from me. I was so overcareful that I sometimes treated him like a piece of beautiful blown glass – to be admired from a distance, but never touched for fear the wrong movement might shatter him.” The next sentence he says with devastating simplicity. “He was the single most remarkable person I have ever met. And I loved him. Oh, how I loved him. But he’s… gone, now.”

He looks down at the floor, seeming abashed.

I feel conflicted. Most of me feels like a complete and total asshole for making him talk about such a tough subject. In my defense, how I was I supposed to know what was coming? But there is a small part of me that now, having heard him talk about his greatest love, having heard the emotion fill his voice and seep into the corners of his soul, filling him at once with despair and hope, knows that I want to be on the receiving end of that kind of overwhelming love.

I don’t know what to say, so I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry your boyfriend died,” I tell him. The words feel inadequate and a little forced, but it’s all I’ve got.

He looks at me sadly. “I’ll be okay,” he replies. “It was recent, so it’s still very fresh, but it feels as if he’s still with me, just… differently, now.”

I nod. “I know what that’s like. It’s how I feel about Ma-” I choke off, sorrow filling my voice. I clear my throat and continue, more quietly, fighting back tears. “My little brother Max. Izzy told me he was killed in Idris.” My face is getting warm and I can feel my eyes burn. “I don’t remember that.” I scoff. “I don’t remember a _lot_ of things. But at the same time, I can- I can _feel_ it, in my soul. It cuts so deep, beneath all the walls I’ve built up for myself, to protect myself. I’ve never allowed myself to be loved, outside my family, except for- for Jace. I let myself have that. Max’s loss, it- it just hurts, so much, but at the same time it’s almost as if since I don’t remember it, it never happened. Sometimes I forget he’s gone and then when I remember it’s like I’m losing him all over again. Sometimes it’s like if I don’t think about it, he could still be alive. Maybe that’s stupid. Is that stupid?” Tears are sliding silently down my cheeks now, and I wipe them hastily away as I studiously examine Magnus’ ornate coffee table.

“That’s not stupid,” he murmurs. He turns to me abruptly, making fierce eye contact. “Nothing you feel is ever stupid.”

I nod, wiping at my face again. “It’s just that I- I love my family more than almost anything else in the world.”

“Almost?” Magnus inquires, seeming immeasurably grateful for the change in topic. “What do you love more than your family?”

I shake my head, looking at him for the first time in a hot second. “I don’t…” I duck my head, then look back at him. “I don’t remember. There’s something, there is, but it’s just… not there, when I try to reach for it. It was lost, along with everything else, part of the gaping hole in my heart and my history left behind when those eight years were taken from me. This – this sucks! All of this just fucking blows.”

The expression on his face is as if he knows my pain. As if he’s been where I am. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, and we sit in silence.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep, though I don’t remember it, because when I wake up it’s four in the morning, and I’m sprawled across one of the High Warlock’s couches with a soft, thick blanket draped over my body. It feels and smells familiar, as if I cherished it in a past life. I discard that thought as me being tired and caffeine-hyped at 4am.

I stay as quiet as possible when I slip out of the loft.

I keep the blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That thing about the blanket is kind of a throwaway but the implication is that it was Alec's favorite blanket before he lost his memories. And fear not - you'll find out what happened to him, as well as those conversations with Izzy/Magnus and Jace/Izzy. I'm so going to end up posting at least one more chapter today, aren't I?


	3. Ch. 2 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s when Izzy comes in. She sees me standing at the maps table, obviously exhausted, and grabs my arm. I turn to her but her face is kind of blurry. “Izzy,” I whisper, and I mean to sound totally unruffled but instead I sound like I’m in awe. And I hear my own voice and it makes me laugh. I feel a little drunk, even though I don’t drink.  
> Izzy sighs and wraps my arm around her shoulder, taking a step toward the residential wing. I shake her off. “Nah, Iz, I’m fine,” I tell her, trying to convince her that I know what I’m doing. “I found the connection! All these people knew each other!”  
> I stand in the middle of the room and Izzy looks at me with her hair mussed, her eyebrows arched, and her hands on her hips. I feel myself swaying in place a little bit, and then I’m laying on something cold.  
> I pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in science. I'm so bad at commitment.

I don’t see Magnus again for a couple weeks.

For some reason, after that conversation, after opening myself up to him like that, I’m afraid to go to him again. Nobody (except Izzy, whom I tell everything, plus she gave me the address) knows that I went to talk to him.

Instead of going to see him (read: to keep myself from thinking about Magnus) I throw myself into work. The day after our little cry-fest, I go on a two-day mission that leaves me banged, bruised, and bedridden (at Izzy’s insistence). I’m not allowed to do field work for five days. My sister’s overprotective.

Three days into my probation, there’s a series of connected demon attacks. They appear to be Veulik demons attacking mundanes at random. I can’t leave the Institute ( _Izzy…_ ugh) but I spend hours at the tactical maps tables staring at 3D holograms of New York, the places where the attacks were, profiles of the victims, and results of the autopsies. I’m determined to find the connection.

I spend days poring over the same information, finding nothing new, not even a clue as to who the next victim might be. After four more attacks, Izzy finally lifts my ban.

I go with her to the scene of all four attacks, and we become even more confused when we realize that only one of the victims was a mundane – two of them were warlocks and the fourth was a werewolf.

Izzy performs her autopsies and sends me the results. I stare at all the information we have on all the victims and try to figure out what the connection is. There’s got to be a link between them. There has to.

Six more murders take place over the course of four days. I don’t sleep. I just stand in the Ops Center and review and reevaluate the victims’ profiles. Two of them weren’t in our system (which is crazy – Idris keeps records of every mundane, Downworlder and Shadowhunter, records that include birthdates, copies of birth certificates, deathdates, death certificates, achievements, physical attributes, criminal records, and many other things) so I had to create profiles for them.

I stare at the profiles of the victims of the eleven murders that have so far taken place.

Allison Henning, 29. First murder. 5 tattoos, no criminal record. Eyes: brown. Hair: blonde. Caucasian. 5”3’. Cisgender. Bisexual. Married twice: once to a warlock woman who gave her Sight, once to a nonbinary mundane.

Toniesha Day, 637. Third murder. Warlock mark: tiger tail. Eyes: dark brown. Hair: black. Asian-American. 6”1’. Genderfluid nonbinary. Pansexual. Married once.

Daniel Jackson, 34. Second murder. 1 tattoo, 1 piercing, extensive history of petty thievery and one count of armed robbery. Eyes: green. Hair: blond. Caucasian. Cisgender. Gay. Engaged three times to the same man, never married.

Another name, another age. Another number. Criminal record. Eye color, hair color. Race. Height. Gender identity. Sexual identity. Marriage record.

Again.

And again.

And again and again.

And again and again and again.

Until I put something together.

Toniesha Day was married to Allison Henning. Day was Henning’s first spouse.

I jump up, energized by my discovery and click over to another profile – the second murder.

Daniel Jackson was Allison Henning’s older brother.

I keep clicking, reading through profiles, making connections.

The fourth person murdered was Jackson’s ex-fiance. The fifth was Henning’s best friend. The sixth was a close cousin. The seventh was Jackson’s best friend.

The eighth murder was Henning’s other spouse. The ninth murder was their ex-girlfriend who they were extremely close with. The tenth and eleventh murders were the two who weren’t in the system – almost like they didn’t exist. But they did exist. We had their bodies.

_Fake identities._

I put the profile for the tenth murder victim up on one screen and start a scan of all other files in the system, parameters: mundane, black hair, blue eyes, 21-27 years of age, 5”8’, assigned male, 177lbs.

3 matches.

I look through them each, trying to find the one that looks like this person. I finally find it. The eyes are a slightly different color and the hair is flaming red, but it’s definitely him. _Anthony Stone, 23. Extensive criminal record. 6 recorded fake IDs, fake passports, fake driver’s licenses, and fake birth certificates. Hair: red. Eyes: blue-green. Caucasian European. Gender identity/sexuality unknown. Never married._

He’s quite the introvert but it looks as though he and Daniel Jackson ran a bunch of robberies together.

The other woman was his sister.

I barely even notice that it’s 3 am and I haven’t slept in almost four days. I’m running on pure adrenaline at this point.

I grin at the screen and start to jot some notes down, slowly coming down from my discovery high.

That’s when Izzy comes in. She sees me standing at the maps table, obviously exhausted, and grabs my arm. I turn to her but her face is kind of blurry. “Izzy,” I whisper, and I mean to sound totally unruffled but instead I sound like I’m in awe. And I hear my own voice and it makes me laugh. I feel a little drunk, even though I don’t drink.

Izzy sighs and wraps my arm around her shoulder, taking a step toward the residential wing. I shake her off. “Nah, Iz, I’m fine,” I tell her, trying to convince her that I know what I’m doing. “I found the connection! All these people knew each other!”

I stand in the middle of the room and Izzy looks at me with her hair mussed, her eyebrows arched, and her hands on her hips. I feel myself swaying in place a little bit, and then I’m laying on something cold.

I pass out.

I hear, as if from a great distance, Izzy on the phone with someone. “Yeah, I know it’s early, I just… no. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have- of course! Please just come, he’s completely wiped. Thank you. Of course. Thanks, I don’t know what we’d do without you. Bye.”

And then Magnus is there, and he lifts me up and I curl myself into his body. He makes a surprised noise but I’m not really paying attention.

“I’ll take care of him,” he says to Izzy, and then I close my eyes for just a second.

When I wake up, I’m lying on Magnus’ bed – fully clothed, thank the Angel – and Magnus is in my arms. I’m not exactly holding him down, but one of my arms is under him and the other is thrown over his shoulders. I seem to be subconsciously pulling him closer to my body, like I want him there, like I _need_ him there. So this is where he took me last night/this morning?

I feel bad and somewhat awkward. I know that I reach out for people in my sleep, but I didn’t want Magnus to know that. Needing people makes me feel weak, and I don’t want Magnus to think I’m weak.

I sigh and indulge myself – something I’ve never let myself do. I bury my nose in his hair. It smells nice, like sandalwood and cinnamon, and I want to drown in it.

I want to drown in Magnus.

He’s so different. He’s so unique. And now… well, now he’s seen me at my most vulnerable – asleep.

(Totally overlooking the fact that he draped a blanket over me when I crashed at the loft the last time I was here.)

He stirs slowly, then looks up at me. “Good morning, Alec,” he greets me tiredly. “How are you?”

A million answers fly through my head, and I almost say the stupidest one – _best I’ve ever been, I’m with you._

Instead, I settle for the safe choice. “I’m good. Tired. You?”

He laughs. “Of course you’re tired. Isabelle says you haven’t slept in four days. Nine hours of sleep isn’t enough to make up for that. And as for myself, I’m just fine. You’re very warm.”

I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips. He looks at me curiously. “Oh yeah?” he asks.

I roll my eyes, shifting away from him. Some of the mirth dies in his eyes, like throwing sand on a fire. “I need to go,” I tell him.

He sighs and stands up, too. “I suppose you do. They’ll need you over at the Institute.” He’s avoiding my eyes, but all I want is for him to look at me. Finally, I give up on being subtle.

“Magnus,” I almost snap, desperate to get his attention. He looks up sharply. I suddenly realize I don’t know what I want to say. I flounder for a moment, then manage to stammer out, “thank you.”

He stares at me like that’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “It’s nothing.”

I look straight into his eyes. “Are you sure?”

He shrugs amicably. “It never is, when it comes to you-” there’s a brief pause, like he wants to end the sentence there, but seems to realize something and quickly presses on. “Lightwoods. I’d do anything for your sister, believe me.”

I smile at him, suddenly feeling so much more comfortable. “Well, that makes two of us.”


	4. Ch. 3 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Magnus doesn’t look at me like you all do!” I scream. The pure energy in my voice seems to push them all away from me until they’re standing in a circle around me, too far away to touch.  
> I don’t look at them. I can’t. I stare at the floor, the ceiling, anything not to have to see the confusion in their eyes, the hurt in their postures, the tenseness written all over them. I just can’t.  
> And the room is silent for a long moment. I feel as if I’m suffocating, choking on my explanation. I have to fix it, I have to make them see, and I’m backtracking so quickly that I stumble over my words and they come out in clumps, all at once, and barely coherent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still failing at committing to an upload schedule. Enjoy the angst!

My friendship with Magnus grows quickly, after that. After he’s seen me at what feels like my worst (it’s definitely not), I’m suddenly not nearly as awkward.

It starts off as me just going over to his loft to vent when I don’t feel like I can talk to Jace or Izzy, but soon morphs into a routine – I come over to see him once or twice a week. But by two months since that first night, I’m at his loft almost every day. I seem to spend more time there than I spend at the Institute. I’ve gotten to know Magnus very well, better even than I know my siblings. Magnus and I have unique perspectives on each other.

Most days our routine just involves me showing up at his door, dropping my things onto his coffee table, and explaining to him why my day has been shit.

Today when I get there, he smiles at me and takes my jacket. “How have you been, Alec?” he asks, as if I didn’t just see him 15 hours ago.

“Izzy keeps asking me if I remember this, that, and the other thing,” I complain as I walk toward the couches and throw myself onto one of them, still looking in his direction. “Jace and Clary have spent every waking moment holed up in the library trying to do enough research to undo whatever got done to me. And worst of all, I think Simon’s written an entire album’s worth of sings about his poor, lost friend with the amnesia. It’s pure torture.”

Then I see the look that Magnus is giving me – an excruciating combination of self-resentment, resignation, and what appears to be guilt. I know him far too well. “What?” I ask resignedly.

“Have you told them yet?” he asks, almost pleadingly. I’m about to play it like I’ve got no idea what he’s talking about when he continues. “About why you’re here so much?”

I sigh and look away, shaking my head. “That’s not a conversation I want to have to have.” Magnus walks over and stands behind the couch, leaning his forearms on it and staring down at me with a face full of disappointment and an expression that says he doesn’t like telling me this any more than I like hearing it.

“But it’s one you _need_ to have. There is a difference between want and need, and sometimes you have to sacrifice what you want for the sake of what you need. It’s called mental health.” He checks his watch. “And besides, even if this weren’t an important piece of information that you need to impart to your family, you can’t stay anyway. I have a client in fifteen minutes, so I need you out.”

He tosses me my coat.

I sigh and spring off the couch (thanks Shadowhunter muscles!). “Okay, but text me when your client leaves and I can come back over here. I have a feeling this won’t go well and I’ll probably need to rant about it.”

Magnus smiles and nods. “Of course, Alexander,” he replies, sounding like he’d always been planning to do that anyway.

It always puzzles me when he calls me that. I don’t know why he would. It’s a mouthful, and it’s not an elegant or pleasant-sounding name. It doesn’t really bother me, though; I love the way my name sounds in his voice, and it feels special that he’s the only one who calls me that.

I smile at him as I shove his door open. “Bye Magnus,” I call. “See you later!” He waves, smiling. I feel like such a dork.

The walk from Magnus’ apartment to the Institute is only about ten minutes long, but it seems to drag on and on. I don’t want to have this conversation. I’m dreading it. But Magnus is right – after all, isn’t he always? This is important, and I need to sacrifice my comfort for a few minutes for the sake of the people I care most about.

So I keep walking.

And then I’m there, standing in front of the beautiful, imposing, invisible building I call home. I walk inside and consider looking for my friends, but I decide against it. They’ll find me.

I go straight to the training room, attacking one of the punching bags with all my angelic fury. After a few minutes, the four of them enter, completely decked out in training gear and engaged in a passionate conversation that cuts off as soon as they see me. They visibly start. I keep punching.

“Alec!” Izzy sounds surprised. “We thought you’d be at Magnus’.”

I grunt, putting in two more punches. “I was. Kicked me out. He’s got a client.” I turn toward them, pulling off my handwraps. “And besides,” I sigh. “We need to talk. But don’t worry, I’ll be back there soon enough.”

Jace stares at me with angry fire in his eyes like I’ve just insulted his mother (who also happens to by my mother). “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks accusingly. Izzy puts a hand on his arm.

I exhale loudly, feeling like a total asshole. “I’m sorry,” I say. "I’m just on edge. I…” I trail off. I take a deep breath as I decide how I want to say this. “I need to tell you guys something. About… about Magnus.” That didn’t come out exactly how I planned, but it’ll get where I want it to go all the same.

Izzy gasps excitedly. “Are you sleeping with him?” she exclaims. Simon and Clary give her pointed looks.

“What? No!” I sit down on one of the benches. “No, it’s… it’s about the reason I’m always at his house and here so infrequently.”

Jace makes an impatient kind of ‘go on’ motion with his hand. I continue. “Well, it’s just that I- I need Magnus. I’m kind of… using him, but with his permission. That… doesn’t make any sense. Shit.” I take a deep breath, then try again.

“I needed a friend who didn’t know me. Before. Somebody who won’t always be comparing who am I right now, in this moment – the only version of me that should matter – to who I was, the one that I don’t remember. I needed someone who had never met me before all this bullshit, who doesn’t know what I was like, and who’s not trying to get anything from me. He has no expectations, and it’s very… very freeing. It’s just that it’s so much easier to be around him.”

Izzy looks sadly at me and I know I’ve offended her. I feel like shit. “Why, Alec?” she whispers. “Why is he so important? You’ve known me your entire life, you’ve known Jace half your life, so why does this man you’ve known for two months matter so much to you?”

“I know,” I start to say, trying to defend myself without hurting her, “but it’s just-”

“Just what?” Clary demands, and I blow up.

“Magnus doesn’t look at me like you all do!” I scream. The pure energy in my voice seems to push them all away from me until they’re standing in a circle around me, too far away to touch.

I don’t look at them. I can’t. I stare at the floor, the ceiling, anything not to have to see the confusion in their eyes, the hurt in their postures, the tenseness written all over them. I just can’t.

And the room is silent for a long moment. I feel as if I’m suffocating, choking on my explanation. I have to fix it, I have to make them see, and I’m backtracking so quickly that I stumble over my words and they come out in clumps, all at once, and barely coherent.

“I love you but when you look at me it feels as if you’re looking at someone else. A ghost. It’s like you’re- like you’re searching my eyes for somebody who just doesn’t exist anymore. You’re seeing a different man, a man that I’m not, that I can’t be. And with Magnus… when he looks at me he sees _me_. As I am, not as I was. He doesn’t look at me like I’m lost or like I’m broken, he just- he sees nothing else but what’s right in front of him. He just understands, Izzy. He gets it. I’m not saying that it’s better, but it’s easier. It’s so much easier. I never have to explain myself to him, and when I’m with him, when he looks at me, I _matter_. I’m not second to my siblings like I am everywhere else.”

That was more than I had intended to say. I have always felt inferior to them, but I didn’t want them to know that. I love Jace and Izzy with every fiber of my being, so much that it physically hurts sometimes. But on the battlefield, I’m only the protecter. Every Downworlder at every bar always throws themselves at one of them, and never at me (not that I’m interested, in any case, but it’s the _principle_ ). I’m not the strongest or the most beautiful or the _best_.

I should shut up, but the words keep pouring out of me. “Nobody has ever looked at me and told me that I was worth being looked at. Or that I was worth anything, really. No one’s ever been as infuriatingly genuine as he is. And I don’t really have any… friends. I have family, sure, I have an extensive family, but no friends.”

Izzy just stares at me for a long time, a film of tears in front of her eyes. I sigh and take a subconscious step away from her, unable to face the raw despair, anger, and betrayal in my sister’s gaze. I choke out an “I’m sorry” so quietly I’m not even sure I heard myself.

My phone chimes. I pull it out and unlock it, thankful for the distraction. “Oh, thank the Angel,” I breathe. “It’s him. His client’s gone, I’m leaving.” I push between Jace and Simon to the door. I can feel all four pairs of their eyes on me, boring through me, as if they can break into my skull by sheer force of will and figure out what the fuck is going on with me.

I pretend I don’t see the looks I get as I leave.

I don’t see anything at all.

I’ve fucked the hell up.


	5. Ch. 4 - Magnus & Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec looks at me remorsefully and I can feel my eyes burning.  
> “You don’t have to continue,” he whispers.  
> But I do. I’ve never told this to anyone, not even he, who above all deserved to know. I know that I’m not looking at the man I fell in love with eight years ago, but my heart refuses to listen to my head.  
> Quietly, and so slowly, I admit the thing – the terrifying thing – that has been looming over me for six and a half years. “I don’t- I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fall in love again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR ALL THE COMMENTS!!! Y'all are the best.

After my client leaves, I text Alexander.

No, his name is _Alec_. I’m going to have to get used to that. I’ve called him Alexander for eight years, and eight years of habit are hard to break.

I hand the boys over to Dot for a weekend (she loves them to death) and when I return to my loft, Alec Lightwood is standing in my living room, looking lost. The sight reminds me of another day when he stood in thie very room, wearing that exact same expression. That day led to a fantastic view of his abs, two different restaurants, multipe hot makeout sessions, an attempted mugging, and eight years of dedication (not necessarily in that order). I wonder where this one will lead.

I can only hope it’s not to heartbreak.

He smiles when he sees me and I motion for him to sit down.

“Hey,” he murmurs quietly, and _fuck_ I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him until his face is flushed and his lips are swollen and his breathing is labored. But I can’t, because he doesn’t remember that Magnus Bane.

I have _exceptional_ self-restraint (not) so I don’t. It’s a miracle.

“Good afternoon, Alec,” I greet him pleasantly, as if he wasn’t here just an hour ago. “What do you want to do?”

“Play cards?” he suggests shyly. Once again, I have to fight the impulse to pin him down and kiss him.

With calculated casualness that I do not quite feel, I reply, “okay.”

Twenty-five minutes later, after losing five consecutive games of Speed, Alec throws his cards down on the table, wildly accusing me of cheating (I will neither confirm nor deny).

“Okay, I’m hardcore raging right now,” he admits. “I give up, you win. Let’s do something else.” He moves along the couch so that he’s sitting next to me, our shoulders almost touching. “Tell me a story,” he requests, sounding almost like a child in the most adorable way imaginable. “Just, any random thing about yourself.”

I shrug and nod. “Okay… how about this. Once upon a time,” I begin jokingly, and a shadow of a smile appears on his face, as if he’s fighting the urge to laugh. He looks so joyful and carefree and genuine. I, however, can’t share in his mirth. I feel sad and nostalgic.

I look down at him with a heavy heart. _Once upon a time you loved me,_ I want to tell him. _Once upon a time you knew_ _who I was._

I take a deep breath and continue my story. “I was trapped in a hell dimension – Edom. I was kidnapped by Sebastian Morgenstern. Remember that boyfriend I told you about the first time you came over here? He followed Sebastion to rescue me. He and I weren’t even together at the time; I’d just broken up with him, like, a month prior. But despite that, with no regart for his own safety, he went into an _actual_ Hell to save me. His companions killed my captor, but not before he managed to seal all the gateways out of the realm, rendering them impassable. To escape, they struck a deal with a Prince of Hell – my father, Asmodeus. I tried _so hard_ to be the one who paid the price. He wanted my immortality, which meant my death. I told my boyfriend to go with his family, to leave me there to my fate. He refused. He told me he wouldn’t leave without me.”

My voice cracks for a moment as I pause for breath. I sigh and continue. “I just wanted him to go and live his life, a life he’d barely gotten to have, he was just so young. And I’ve lived so long that it sometimes seems as though death is the only thing I _haven’t_ experienced yet. And I just… I just wanted to save him. I wanted to save him, because he meant the world to me, and he wouldn’t go. That was the moment that I realized how seriously he took the words, ‘I love you’. I realized that when he loved, he loved with all his heart and all his soul, and that was why he loved so few people. When one loves that exhaustively by default, it’s harder to reach out to people, to connect to them. It’s hard, because the more people you have in your life, the more people can just walk right out. You have more to lose. When that’s how you feel… even losing one could be crushing. He almost killed himself after I left him.

“He was the first Shadowhunter I’d ever allowed myself to love, and he always told me I was his ‘one’. It mystified me for years how I could love him so much and so easily, more than I’d ever loved anyone in 500 years of being alive. After he… had his accident, I came to understand that maybe being loved that deeply and wholly had given me the capacity to love on the same level. Since then, I’ve realized…”

Alec looks at me remorsefully and I can feel my eyes burning.

“You don’t have to continue,” he whispers.

But I do. I’ve never told this to anyone, not even he, who above all deserved to know. I know that I’m not looking at the man I fell in love with eight years ago, but my heart refuses to listen to my head.

Quietly, and so slowly, I admit the thing – the terrifying thing – that has been looming over me for six and a half years. “I don’t- I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fall in love again. He was everything. He’s consumed my heart. And that’s… that’s so scary because I’m going to keep on living until someone kills me so I’m eventually going to need to get over him but I won’t. I never will. I’m incapable.”

I look at him, feeling exposed and vulnerable, having laid myself bare for him to see. But I refuse to let my walls snap back up because I told him I’d be better. I promised him that I would _try_ , when I took him back, after Edom, I said I’d be more open, more forthcoming. I took that oath in a different time, to a different man, but in these moments I can’t separate that man from the man sitting next to me on the couch in my loft apartment. So I don’t try to hide my tears. I let him see how much he’s affected me, even though he doesn’t know it.

And Alexander wraps his arms around me and whispers, just as he did that first night he came over here, “I’m sorry your boyfriend died.”

I don’t answer him this time. I just keep crying softly into his gear, and he thinks I’m crying for my loss, but I’m really crying for all the things I’ll never get to say. I cry that I lost him and he may never know me again. I cry for the pain of being so close and yet so very, very far from this man that I love. I cry for all the ‘I love you’s that we will never share. I cry because he’s here, holding me, and yet he’s not the man who loved me, and I don’t know if I can ever have him back. I cry for Alexander, because my heart hurts for him. Because as horrible as this is, as difficult for me to accept, for him it’s a thousand times worse.

I just cry. And I don’t know when exactly it begins, but at some point, holding me, he cries too.

#  Alec

Eventually I have to leave, to go back to the Institute, so I make sure that Magnus makes it into bed and not the liquor cabinet, and then I do.

I sit on my bed, staring at the wall for a very long time, thinking about what Magnus told me.

And then I cry again.

I consider that maybe Magnus and I are a matched set – lost, ruined, and left out to sea, with little hope of ever finding the shore.

I certainly feel that way.

The thought just makes me cry harder.


	6. Ch. 5 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It hurts, Izzy,” I whisper, “because… I think I’m falling in love with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weak, so I'm probably just going to post the rest of it today so you can enjoy it. Have fun.

I’m still crying at midnight when Izzy comes in and finds me in my room, broken and alone. It feels like a betrayal to let her see me like this, but I can’t really do anything about it now.

“Alec,” she whispers, sounding horrified, as she scrambles over to me. “Oh, Alec, are you okay?”

I shake my head mutely,  not looking at her. I don’t know what to say. I can’t figure out how to communicate the immense torrent of thoughts and emotions coursing through me.

But I have to try, or I won’t sleep.

I take a deep breath and still my body, still stumbling for words in the dark. “I… I got back from Magnus’ house a few hours ago. I asked him to tell me a story and he told me about how he was captured and held in a hell dimension and his dead boyfriend saved him. To get out they had to make a deal with a demon who wanted him dead, so he told his boyfriend to leave him there and he wouldn’t. And then he told me how he realized he loved this guy so much that he was incapable of falling in love with anyone else ever again and I just…”

I look up at her and I have to admit it, the thing I’ve suspected for a while but never said aloud because I’m too ashamed to be who I am, because saying it aloud would make it real.

“It hurts, Izzy,” I whisper, “because… I think I’m falling in love with him.”

That’s obviously not what she was expecting to hear. She seems caught completely off-guard. Her jaw hangs open a little as she seems to scramble for something to say. I don’t let her.

“I’m falling in love with him and he _just_ told me that I’m never going to have a chance and I guess I’m just afraid that I’ll never have anyone else, and I’ll never be happy.”

She looks at me for a second, then wraps her arms around me and pulls me flush against her body. I’m crying again but I don’t really care, and neither does she.

I love her so much. She’s always been right by my side, through everything I’ve gone through, and never shamed me for my sexuality or anything else about myself. She accepts and supports me unconditionally and I despise myself for putting her through this, and everything I said the previous afternoon.

I tell her as much.

She sighs quietly and whispers her response into my hair. “I love you too, big brother. Don’t ever forget that.”

She holds me until I fall asleep. At some point, she murmurs, “I’m so sorry, Alec,” and her voice is tearful but I don’t know what she’s apologizing for and then I lose consciousness.

I have a balls-crazy dream about Magnus and Izzy and the room being on fire.

I’m looking at him as if through a telescope, and he’s my boyfriend because dream-logic, and I hold him against myself and tell him, “I love you more than anything,” because it’s true.

He smiles and whispers back, “aku cinta kamu, Alexander.”

It’s a jumble of images and thoughts and shouted sentences that I never consider might be memories and I don’t remember any of it when I wake.

Izzy’s still there when I do, snoring quietly in my chair. I smile at her. She hasn’t slept in days, and she deserves it.

It’s only 4:15, and I only got about two and a half hours of sleep, so I doze off again.

This dream is much more coherent. Magnus stands in front of me, the expression on his face one of near-panic, and says, “please, Alexander, you have to go back to the world.”

And I look at him and I feel pain and fear and overwhelming love all together in a big complicated jumble and I reply, “but I don’t want the world. I want you.”

And he looks at me with a look of faint surprise and his eyes are telling me things he’ll never put into words and then he kisses me, he kisses me so lovingly and holds me so tightly and I love him so much. Fuck, I love this warlock more than anything in the world.

And then someone wrenches him out of my grip and he soars into the sky, mouth open in a soundless scream as he disappears into the hazy redness above me and my hand is on my seraph blade, ready to fight, ready to defend the things that are important to me.

And then Magnus is back. But now Simon is gone. And I feel a terrible sadness.

Just as with the last dream, I remember nothing from it when I emerge from the depths of sleep.

This time when I do, Izzy is awake. She looks at me with something indescribable and difficult to read in her eyes. I open my mouth to speak, to break the silence, to ask her what’s on her mind, but she cuts me off by throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around me. I hug her back and the realization hits me – she’s really messed up.

This is so hard for her. I’ve been focusing on how hard this is for me, but this is difficult for her, too. So many things happened, moments that I shared with her and Jace and Clary and even Simon, things I said, actions I took – stuff I don’t remember.

I suddenly have a moment of clarity and I understand – she’s afraid. She’s _terrified,_ even, that I’ll never get those memories back and the Alec Lightwood that I was for those eight years will be lost forever. It’s a little off-putting because I’ve seen my sister sad, incredulous, and majorly pissed off, but rarely have I ever seen her this scared.

She loves me. I know it. But I also know that I transformed, and she was proud of me. She watched me grow and change and come out and go from being the shy, bitter, socially awkward boy that I had been into a proud, happy, unafraid man. She watched me become stronger and more confident and then in an instant, it all came crashing down on her head. And that hurt.

And then I comprehend something else. She wants me to have my memories back because it hurts her that I don’t remember things that happened between us, but she also wants me to get them back for my own sake. She knows me so well, and she can see in my eyes how painful it is to feel like I should know things but just… come up empty. She just wants me to be happy.

I pull her closer and I whisper, “I know, Isabelle.” She looks up at me, no longer looking like the confident, strong woman I’ve come to know as my sister. She just looks vulnerable and fragile, now.

“You know?” she whispers, sounding confused.

“I know,” I repeat gently. “I know how you feel. I know why you’re so upset. I understand, and I love you so much.”

For a moment she looked almost relieved, but now she just looks disappointed, like she got her hopes up for nothing. “I love you too, Alec,” she murmurs, and the disappointment disappears from her eyes. “I’m always gonna help you.”

“I know that, too,” I tell her.

And then she cries on my gear, but I have no more tears in my body to shed, so I just hold her. I wonder if this is what shock feels like – to have so much grief that eventually you can’t express it anymore, and it breaks out of you and makes you invulnerable. I wonder if shock just means being so miserable that you’re numb.

I hold her as she cries, and she cries for hours and hours, but when Jace comes to get her, I stay in my room.

I don’t think I could go anywhere right now.


	7. Ch. 6 - Isabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love my brother, but he is an oblivious, idiotic _fuck_ sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have nothing to say at this point, these notes are just me stalling, basically.

After what Alec said about the way that Magnus looks at him, I find myself watching Magnus watch Alec all the time. I almost can’t help it. I feel an irrational need to see these things for myself.

I make note of the ways that Magnus changes around him, the things he does with his eyes, his eyebrows, his lips. I observe the softness that shows when he’s with Alec, softness that, even though he’s built relationships with Jace and Clary and Simon and I, is still reserved only for my brother.

I see things I’ve never noticed before, thanks to Alec. And I have a major breakthrough. I finally understand.

I love my brother, but he is an oblivious, idiotic _fuck_ sometimes.

“You look at him like you’re still in love with him,” I accuse Magnus, dragging him outside the training room one day.

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and he spreads his arms in a ‘yeah, so?’ gesure. “I am, Isabelle!” he exclaims. “What did you expect? For me not to be? So what, he loses his memories and it’s just-” he makes a vague waving motion with his hands “-eight years of love and devotion down the drain?”

“No!” I scream. I’m so frustrated. I can’t think straight, and I can’t really speak, either. “I just- it’s- it was _your_ call not to tell him about-” I wave my arms dramatically in his direction “-you, that you were in love or whatever you wanna fuckin’ call it, and yeah, I agree that him knowing could easily do more harm than good but I also…” I take a deep breath and make a conscious effort to calm and collect myself.

“You’re so _obvious_ ,” I state, more whiney than I intend to. “The way you act, he’s going to figure it out anyway, or at least part of it. Alec is a smart guy and you’re… not subtle. By the Angel, you’re _hopeless_!”

He looks sad, almost pathetic, and he appears to want to interject but I stop him. “And did you ever consider that maybe _not_ telling him will damage your relationship more than coming clean?” I sigh and slump against the wall, waiting for the word tsunami to run its course. “I just want to help Alec. I just want him to be okay.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I want to help him too, Izzy.” His voice is quiet and thoughtful and I realize I haven’t given this enough thought to how this must be affecting him. He loves Alec so much more than I could ever comprehend, and I’m so caught up in my own experience that I forgot that fact. “He may be different now, but my Alexander has never changed.”

My breathing quickens on the word ‘my’. Of course Magnus would see it that way. Memories or no, Alec still looks and walks and talks and acts like the man that Magnus loves and he’s going to hold on to whatever he can get.

“He is still the headstrong, intelligent, beautiful man I fell in love with eight years ago. And when I look at him… it hurts, so very very much, but I still love him. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop. He is and always will be everything that matters in my world. And – Isabelle, please look at me – we’re going to get his memories back. _I_ will get Alexander’s memories back. Even if it kills me.”

His voice is low and grim and full of conviction, his expression serious as he finishes, and I don’t doubt for a second that he means every damn word. But…

I look up at him. “Magnus,” I whisper brokenly, feeling my eyes fill with tears. “What if he’s really lost to us?”

“He will never be lost to us. _Never_ ,” Magnus swears. “Even if we can’t get his memories back. He’s still here, isn’t he? He walked that path of growth and change once, and he can do it again. And if we can’t get his memories back, I will settle for watching from the sidelines, allowing him to continue his life, marry some pretty, _mortal_ Shadowhunter boy, and push me as far out of his social circles as he must. Whatever he needs I will provide. And if he knew and didn’t choose me, I would accept that, too. Believe me when I say that all I want in this life is happiness for Alexander Lightwood.”

I nod. After a moment, I say calmly, “I’m not upset that you’re in love with him. If anything, I’m glad. It means you’ll do whatever has to be done for him, and it’s one more person who is wholly dedicated to my brother, to helping him. The five of us, we’re strong people. We can do anything, and we all love Alec. We’ll stop at nothing, and we won’t ever give up on him, will we? We’ll get him back. We’ll get your Alec back.” I lean my head against the rough stone wall and close my eyes.

He smiles. “We will. And when we do…” he looks away, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “I’m going to marry him, Izzy.”

I have to fight not to squeal at an embarrassingly high frequency. _O. T. FUCKING. P._ “Please do that,” I whisper, unable to hide my excitement. Magnus rolls his eyes, smiling fondly.

“I knew you would approve,” he tells me, “and I wanted to tell someone.” He takes a deep breath. “He proposed to me once. Indirectly. And I turned him down because I’m not… it wasn’t what he deserved.” He looks down, and I suddenly realize how ashamed he is that he made that decision.

“I don’t want him to have anything less than what he’s earned through his years of selfless, heartbreaking service – to Idris and to his family – and he has earned a goddamn Shadowhunter wedding to whomever he chooses, whomever he loves enough to dedicate his whole heart and his whole short life to. If I am to marry him, I want it to be in warlock blue and Nephilim gold.” He pauses a second and his voice slows and quiets, but the conviction in it is in no way dimmed.

“I was taken by surprise because nobody I’ve ever been with, no one who’s ever loved me, has ever wanted to marry me. Maybe they believed that since I was immortal, I wouldn’t want to be tied down like that, but I’d started to believe that maybe I wasn’t worthy of marriage… until your brother. I’ve had lovers willing to die with me, but none prepared to swear to stay by my side for so long as they might live. That was another moment I realized how much I loved him. I want to marry him, now that I can. But we have to save him first.”

My eyes are burning again. I throw my arms around his neck. “By the Angel, I’m so sorry Magnus.” He puts a hand between my shoulder blades.

“Nothing to be sorry about, my darling. We’ll save him and then I’ll marry him. That’s all there is to it.” He kisses my hair affectionately and even if he hadn’t been madly in love with my brother I would’ve been able to tell it wasn’t sexual in any way.

“I do love you, Isabelle,” he murmurs. “Just like he does.”

My eyes fill with tears as I regard him, so much older than myself, wiser, and more distinguished. But in this moment, we are one. We feel the same feelings of love for my brother and intense desire for his recovery, we wear the same expressions, and we speak the same thoughts. I feel as if I know him in a far more intimate way than I could ever have imagined.

Thank god at least one good thing came from this hellish situation – I’ve found a far closer friend in Magnus Bane than I ever thought I would.

As he walks away down the hall, I realized I never actually asked him my burning question.

_Why stay?_


	8. Ch. 7 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I should have known how wrong it would go. I should have known it would be my fault, too. Me and my goddamn anxiety. And all of my friends should have known as well.

_3 months ago…_

“Pentagram, check. Creepy candles, check. Gorgeous warlock boyfriend, check, check, and check,” I mutter grimly, stepping back from the pentagram and brushing chalk off my gear jacket.

Izzy smacks my shoulder and I stick my tongue out at her, making an extremely childish face.

“Mature,” she comments sarcastically, looking at me with a raised eyebrow and an umimpressed expression.

I roll my eyes. “God, I fucking _hate_ demon summonings,” I complain.

Jace sighs exasperatedly and turns to glare at me from where he’s kneeling on the floor, organizing tall, thin, black candles into careful superstitious arrangements. He practically yells his response.

“Yeah, Alec, we know! You have now mentioned it exactly _eighteen times_ since we decided we were going to do this – a day ago!”

I flip him the finger, trying to relax into the familiarity of this kind of teasing banter with my _parabatai_ , but none of the tension leaves my shoulders, and I know that Jace and Clary can both see the obvious nerves written all over my face.

Clary gives Magnus a pointed look over my shoulder, then goes back to drawing the edges of the pentagram on the floor. Magnus gives in (obviously reluctantly) and stands up to come comfort me. “Don’t be so uptight, Alexander,” he murmurs, placing a hand on either of my shoulders from behind. “Nothing will go wrong.” He rests his head on one of his hands and I kiss his hair.

“You don’t know that,” I reply softly.

When he levels his eyes at me, they scream ‘give me a fucking break’. “We have done _so many_ demon summonings at this point, and how many of them have we irreparably fucked up?” he asks, rightly (of course).

“That depends on your definition of ‘fucked up’,” Simon pipes up unhelpfully from the bench he’s settled himself onto. He inured his leg protecting Jace in a mission a couple of weeks ago (Jace hated that) and he’s still recovering, but he wanted to come along for moral support. Magnus effectively shuts him up with a withering glare and he pales, turning to converse quietly with Jace, who’s sitting a few feet away from him on the floor.

“None so far,” I admit quietly, but I’m still struggling to reign in my anxiety.

“Exactly,” my boyfriend tells me. “Unless _one of us-_ ” he glares pointedly at my _parabatai_ , who quickly busies himself with his candle arrangement, avoiding eye contact and speaking more rapidly to Simon, “makes a stupid or rash decision, we’ll be fine.”

Oh, I should have known how wrong it would go. I should have known it would be my fault, too. Me and my goddamn anxiety. And all of my friends should have known as well.

But instead I nod at him, because I _don’t_ know. “Okay,” I agree reluctantly. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

We each take our positions around the pentagram. Magnus is on my right, Clary on my left, Jace next to Clary, and Izzy between Jace and Magnus. Simon is still sitting on his bench, though watching us earnestly. Before he starts to speak, I squeeze Magnus’ hand “for luck”. He smiles softly at me, then begins the summoning, speaking in rolling Latin an incantation I can’t translate, and from the dark undertones in his voice and what little I know about this demon, I’m not quite sure I want to.

This demon is made of fire, consuming, burning, devouring everything. It’s fitting, I suppose, considering that it feeds only on one’s strongest, most positive emotions – love, joy, hope – leaving one only with one’s darkest thoughts and despairs.

(And of course, when we informed Clary in Simon of this fact, they looked back at us with calm, undisturbed poker faces and replied in perfect unison, “like a dementor?” then high-fived each other, grinning. Because they’re mundanes at heart, and complete dorks.)

The demon regards us all with its dull, glowing, ember-like eyes. When it speaks, its voice burns like the sound of crackling flames.

“Nephilim,” it remarks coolly, looking at Clary and Izzy, who are standing together. “Why have you summoned me?” It asks the question as though out of courtesy, the tone of its voice implying that it doesn’t give a straight fuck.

It’s sinister and somewhat creepy, but I can’t let my fears and doubts overtake me now. We all agreed to let Magnus do the talking, so Clary and Izzy both keep their mouths shut. I can feel through out connected hands that he’s a little intimidated, but when his voice rings out from my right, he sounds utterly fearless, and I fall in love with him all over again.

“We need information,” Magnus bellows over the hungry inferno that is this fire demon. “We are willing to pay for it.”

The demon turns on him. “Ah, but you are not Nephilim,” it mutters. Its tone doesn’t fit its words – it sounds unsurprised and unimpressed. “You have love to spare, though. So much love, I can feel it from over here. This redheaded girl, who is like your own daughter, the darker girl, whom you see as a sister, and the golden one you love for the sake of his _parabatai_. Then, of course, there’s this one.” It peers at me curiously, as though enticed by my appearance. I grip tighter onto Magnus’ hand, willing myself not to seem afraid. I can’t be afraid. “Each of them means something to you, warlock, but this one… he means everything. You love him with all your heart. You’d give him the world if you could.”

My own words flash through my head like lightning, unbidden and rather unwelcome. _I don’t want the world. I want you_.

The demon continues. “And he loves you with all of his. How sweet,” it drawls, utterly deadpan. Then, slightly more curiously, it states, “I wonder what it would be like to watch you torn from each other. Would it not be devastating? I enjoy destroying love almost as much as I enjoy feasting upon it.”

My heart is racing now. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let go of Magnus. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not again.

“What do you want from me?” Magnus shouts, his voice still steady and completely unafraid.

He is the most fucking glorious thing I have ever beheld. Standing here, in front of this goddamn fire demon, hair blowing and eyes gleaming, he’s like a beautiful avenging angel, my person guardian, whose mandate is to protect me from any and all evils that might try to take me from him.

God, how I love him.

The demon watches us hungrily, as if now that the notion has been introduced, he wants nothing more than to rip us away from each other. It can forget that pursuit. I will tear its fiery flest from its bones before I let go of Magnus’ hand.

“You have nothing I want, warlock,” it replies steadily. “Perhaps I should just kill you.”

I can’t hold my tongue anymore – I’m sure it’s provoking me, but I can’t help but rise to the bait. “I’m not going to let that happen!” I scream immediately and passionately, rebuffing whatever peacegul argument Magnus had been preparing to make. He looks at me sharply.

“Alexander,” he cautions. He doesn’t have to elaborate. I can read his meaning in his eyes – the raw fear glistening in them – and his grip – so tight around my fingers his knuckles are turning white. _Tread lightly_.

I love that about him. He will tell me to be careful, but he won’t hold me back from my overwhelming need to protect everyone and anyone that I commit my heart to. He knows I can’t resist my impulses. He knows I can’t let anything happen to him.

I take a deep breath, but before I can say anything else, the demon cuts me off. This whole time, it’s been looking closely at me, but now it says, “such strength. Such passion. You’re fiercer than I thought, Shadowhunter.”

“And believe me, I’ll do anything to protect my family.” I fling the words at the demon defiantly, as though if I throw them hard enough, I could send this motherfucker back to whatever hell dimension it came from.

I realize my mistake instantly and by the disappointment in Izzy’s eyes, the fear in Jace’s, the way Magnus’ hand shifts on mine, and the way Clary’s grasp tightens, they all do too.

The word ‘anything’ has a lot of power when it comes to demons. By saying that I’ll do anything, I’ve just given the demon permission to take its payment from me. Those three words amount to consent in a demon’s eyes.

The demon fixes me with its burning stare. “ _Anything_ , Shadowhunter?” it asks.

I’m a little shocked. It could easily just take what it wants and leave, give Magnus his information and run on back to hell to spread some more misery and despair, but instead it’s giving me a second chance – a second chance I don’t deserve.

But I am ruled by my emotions (no matter how much I might pretend otherwise). So I make a decision.

It’s the wrong one.

“Anything,” I confirm confidently, throwing my shoulders back and allowing the demon to see my full height – I slouch most of the time, but I’m actually several inches taller than Magnus – as I say my next words commandingly. Clary Jace, Izzy, and Simon are all staring at me with disappointment in their eyes. “Let me be the one who pays the price.”

We’re making all kinds of throwbacks to that day in Edom this afternoon, aren’t we?

“The warlock has nothing of interest to me,” the demon says, waving a dismissive claw of what appears to be obsidian in Magnus’ direction. “But you… I think you shall do nicely, Nephilim _scum_.”

I swallow. _This was a mistake_ , I scream in my head. _Why did I agree to this?_

“Eight years of your life,” the demon announces triumphantly, and smiles, having named its price. “I will take eight years of life from you and I will deliver the promised information to your Downworld consort.”

I’m not thinking straight – although when am I ever?; take that however you will – so I don’t really consider all the possibilities, all the ways this demon could and probably is twisting these words to make them seem harmless when really this is a horrible, possibly life-ending punishment.

I manage to groan out, “guys, this is why I hate demon summonings.” The demon laughs and it’s a harsh, cruel sound, and it grates against my ears and makes me want to throw myself out a window.

It reaches out a clawlike hand and taps me on the forehead and I look at Magnus and he’s no longer an avenging angel, no, he’s just a man – an immortal one, sure, but a man nonetheless – who is terrified for the person he loves most in all the world and the concern is evident in his eyes. I want to say something to him, to reassure him that it’s alright, ‘I’m okay’ or ‘it’s not a big deal’ or something, but the words stick in my throat and I can’t say anything.

And then the world is on fire. All I can see is fire all around me and my head is spinning and I am vaguely aware of my body hitting the floor and the flames part slightly to reveal an extremely attractive Asian man with dyed hair and glittery makeup standing over me and I should know who he is but I don’t and the inferno is licking at his tight leather jacket and then black.

Black and white and black again. And shades of gray in between. Nothing is focused, just shifting clouds of smoke and I can’t seem to remember anything about anything. What’s my name? What matters to me?

But then the world fades back into color.

And why am I in the infirmary?


	9. Ch. 8 - Isabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘Eight years of your life’,” I quote with horror. Jace nods grimly.  
> “The demon took his memories,” he says, his voice low and resigned, confirming my worst fears. “All of them, way back to before he even met Magnus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real, basically.

_3 months ago…_

“Isabelle, may I speak to you in private, please?” Magnus doesn’t appear to be even making a base effort to hide the strain in his voice; I wonder if Alec notices it.

I nod, refusing to look at my brother, and follow him into the hall. I close the door behind us, but only then do I get a good look at Magnus. I can see that he’s making a serious effort not to cry. It would smear his makeup and be very obvious, and he needs to go back in there and talk to Alec.

I sigh and lean against the wall. After a moment of silence, I let out a long, loud, impressive string of curses in Spanish.

Magnus comes over to me and leans against the wall next to me, staring down the hall into the Ops Center. “He doesn’t remember me, Isabelle,” he whispers numbly.

I look at him painedly. My heart hurts. My heart hurts for literally everyone in this situation. “I know, Magnus,” I murmur. Then, “we have to tell him, don’t we?” I can hear my own uncertainty seeping into my voice.

Magnust stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t say anything for so long I wonder if he’s planning on answering at all. Finally, he replies, “no. We don’t. In fact, we probably shouldn’t. If we… if I tell him about- about us, that we were in love, he might feel, I don’t know, _pressured_ into a relationship he isn’t interested in having. It could slow his recovery immensely, and at this point, our number one priority has to be the quickest possible recovery for Alexander. Besides, we don’t even know what’s wrong with him yet.”

I had looked up sharply at him on the word ‘shouldn’t’. “Are you going to be okay if we don’t tell him?”

He nods briefly, still looking anywhere but at my face. “I have to,” he replies with devastating simplicity. “For Alexander.”

I want to protest more, to tell him that’s not reasonable, that he can’t put himself through that, but something stops me from it. It isn’t my call, not really. His relationship, not mine. His boyfriend, not mine (ew, he’s my brother). His word is law on this matter, and that’s the decision he’s made.

I have a sickening feeling of dread in my gut that’s shouting that not telling Alec is a _really_ bad idea, but I also know that I can’t argue.

I follow him back into the infirmary room, feeling hopeless. I grab Jace’s elbow and quite literally drag him into the hallway for an exchange of information.

“Need to tell you something,” he says breathlessly as soon as we’re out of earshot of Alec and Magnus.

“Me too,” I reply, “but you go first.”

He’s talking so quickly it sounds almost as if all the words are just tumbling out his mouth at once as he says, “Alec has no memories of the last eight years.”

“Eight _years_?” I shriek, causing several people to glare heatedly at me from the Ops Center down the hall. I take a deep breath to calm myself. Magnus strides past us on his way out of the Institute.

Then I have a startling realization.

“‘Eight years of your life’,” I quote with horror. Jace nods grimly.

“The demon took his memories,” he says, his voice low and resigned, confirming my worst fears. “All of them, way back to before he even met Magnus.”

I slam my body against the wall across from him, then slide down it, staring at the air in front of my face unseeingly. “Fuck,” I whisper.

It’s not exactly that we’re specifically invested in his relationship with Magnus. They’re the cutest couple to ever live, sure, but Alec would be adorable if he were that in love with anybody. Jace and I just want our brother to be happy.

“Pretty much,” Jace agrees, leaning against the opposite wall. He’s doing the Jace-thing where he pretends he’s invincible and that nothing can touch him or get through his armor, but his face is bleak. He’s worrying.

I hate how well I can read him.

“By the Angel, what are we going to do?” I ask helplessly.

“I don’t know, Iz,” Jace replies. “What did you need to tell me?”

I sigh and look at him. “Magnus has decided not to inform Alec of their… history, and because that is his choice to make, you, Clary, Simon, and I are all going to respect it. We’re not going to tell him.”

Jace’s jaw is on the floor. “How is Magnus going to cope with that?” he asks incredulously. “Anyone with half a brain cell could tell you that he’s hopelessly in love with our big brother!”

I nod. “I know. When I asked him if he would be okay with that, he just said ‘I have to’, like there’s no other option. Like he has to be strong for Alec. Just like he always has.” I feel my doubts creeping up on me again. “Jace,” I whisper before I can stop myself, voice shaking. “What if Alec is lost?”

And then I’m sobbing, because this is fresh and horrible and too new and too painful and I just want my Alec back. The big brother who protected Clary and Simon, the father who adopted a tiny blue warlock because it was abandoned, the man who came out to our parents by kissing his boyfriend in front of the entire Clave.

And Jace wraps his arms around me, and I can tell he’s fighting not to cry too. (Fuck toxic masculinity, and double-fuck Valentine for making it such a huge part of my other brother). “He’s not lost,” he says firmly. “He won’t be. He _can’t_ be.”

He hugs me for a while, and then he and I go back inside and we hug Alec, too. We just hug him, because he needs us just as much as we need him right now.

We won’t let go of him.


	10. Ch. 9 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alec,” he says, his wavering voice barely audible, “would you still care about me if I wasn’t who you thought I was?”  
> I slip up. “I don’t think there’s anything you could hide from me that would stop me from loving you.”  
> He stares at me. “You- you love me?” he whispers.  
> “You stupid warlock,” I mutter. “Why else am I here? Of course I do. That’s why I came over here today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONFESSIONS (and kissing) AND ANGST! ANGST ANGST ANGST!!! Sorry, I live off of angst. Enjoy!

I go back to Magnus’ the next day. I feel like I owe it to him to tell him how I feel, like I’m some sort of monster for hiding this secret. It makes me feel unclean to keep it from him, so I go.

I push the front door open and a miserable sight greets me.

Magnus is sitting on the living room floor. He’s wearing a bathrobe and no makeup. His hair is disheveled. He’s crying. When he sees me, he hastily wipes his eyes and pretends he’s okay.

I run to his side anyway.

“Magnus, are you okay?” I ask, worried.

He nods unconvincingly. I roll my eyes. “Not like this, you’re not.” I reprimand. “Be honest.”

“It’s stupid,” he manages. I don’t believe that for a second.

“What was it you told me, the first time I ever came over here? ‘Nothing you feel is ever stupid.’ It’s not stupid, Magnus, it’s valid. Whatever you’re experiencing, it’s valid. And I’m never going to not be here for you, so talk.”

He looks at me like he’s never seen me before, and then he starts to talk. “It’s just…” he sighs. “Today was the anniversary of our first date. He showed up a half hour late and I was a little afraid until he arrived that he’d decided to stand me up. Then I tried to ditch him at one point, but there was a werewolf attack and I was in dire need of assistance and thank the Angel, I had a Shadowhunter on hand. I remember, years later, thinking that if I’d left him behind that day, I would never have known what real love, this kind of happiness felt like. I remember feeling terror and relief at once – terror that I’d considered it, and relief that I hadn’t followed through.”

I sigh. “Magnus,” I murmur, partially because I don’t know what else to say and partially just because I like his name. “I’m sorry your boyfriend died.”

He looks up at me, open and vulnerable. He’s so different from the Magnus Bane I’d always imagined. “Alec,” he says, his wavering voice barely audible, “would you still care about me if I wasn’t who you thought I was?”

I slip up. “I don’t think there’s anything you could hide from me that would stop me from loving you.”

I didn’t mean to say that, but it’s out there now and it’s true and I’m not about to take it back, not when it’s _the thing_ that I came here to say, not when it’s the thing I want him to hear so badly.

He stares at me. “You- you love me?” he whispers.

I smile softly (Jesus, I’m a total cheeseball). “You stupid warlock,” I mutter. “Why else am I here? Of course I do. That’s why I came over here today.”

He suddenly grabs my shirt and pulls me down and kisses me – hard. His lips are soft, and he tilts his head back to give me a better angle. His lips part for me and I slip my tongue between them, somehow knowin exactlyl what to do. He pushes against me, and I push back, and then after such a long time, be pull apart. His hands are on my pecs. I don’t want him to move them. He doesn’t.

Breathlessly, I tell him, “I didn’t… holy shit, that was amazing. Magnus, _you_ are amazing, and I’m in love with you.”

He looks away from my face. I force myself to keep talking. “I… I didn’t want to say anything because of your… you know, your boyfriend. It felt like I was torturing myself, loving a man who was incapable of loving me, but… _do_ you love me? Because that kiss sure felt like it.”

“I love you, Alec,” he breathes. “But not like you want me to.”

I stop abruptly. “It’s about that guy,” I say dismissively, trying to hide my own feelings. I knew this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have kissed back. But I wanted to. I wanted to _so badly_. “That’s fine, I just wanted you to know.”

“That guy… my boyfriend…” Magnus is practically incoherent, fumbling for words. “That’s not- that wasn’t- that…” He seems to realize something, because suddenly he speaks clearly and loudly. “That was a mistake,” he insists.

I feel my face get hot, and I’m staring at him, slack-jawed. “That wasn’t a mistake,” I tell him. “Magnus, that wasn’t a mistake!”

He doesn’t acknowledge me anymore. And then I’m backing away from him, staggering through the door, and sprinting out into the busy streets of New York, needing to get away, to be anywhere but here.

I’m so confused. That wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t. It _wasn’t_. I know it, and I’m sure Magnus does, too. So why is he so… infuriating, that’s the word.

I hate it. I hate _him_. Or I want to. But I don’t, not really. And I can’t. It’s really, really fucking annoying.

So I sprint away from the loft, needing space, needing time.

And then Magnus goes silent.


	11. Ch. 10 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus is quiet, just looking at me sorrowfully, and just when I think maybe he’s not going to answer, he murmurs something I never expected to hear.  
> “Because you remind me so much of him,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnus is having Issues(TM).

Magnus completely ghosts me for an entire week. Eventually I stop calling him and walk back to the loft.

I knock on the door.

I wait three minutes, then knock again.

Three more minutes, and I knock one more time, this time shouting “Magnus, I know you’re here and I’m not going to go away until you open the goddamn door!”

I get a glare from a lady leaving her apartment a few doors down. I don’t honestly give a straight fuck.

45 seconds, and then the door opens.

“What do you want, Lightwood?” he asks, sounding extremely tired.

“I want to know that you’re okay.”

“I am definitely not okay, but thanks anyway,” he says, and moves to close the door. I stop him with one hand.

“You’re not getting away with that,” I inform him somewhat superiorly. “Why aren’t you okay?”

“Because I’m alone, Alec!” he shouts. “You may have your family but the only person who truly cared about my well-being is gone, and I’m alone again. Nobody cares, because nobody has to. They can just make their demands, pay me an exorbitant sum of money, and be on their merry way. He cared because he wanted to.”

“Do you really believe that?” I ask him quietly. I find it hard to accept.

“Believe what? That he cared because he wanted to?” Magnus sounds defensive.

“That nobody really cares about your well-being.” I say. His face lights up with surprise. “Because I’ve had several conversations with my sister about you, and I’ll tell you right now, she may be a little freaked out about my whole memory situation, but you matter to her as well. I don’t know exactly what kind of history you two have, but I’ve gathered that it’s important enough for you to be in her thoughts. And Jace… I don’t even know what’s going on there, but I can feel in our bond that he’s worried about you for some reason. And- hey, Magnus, look at me.”

He does, and his eyes are full of vulnerability and what looks like self-loathing.

“I care about you. Because I want to. I don’t care if you’re not in love with me. Even if I wasn’t in love with you I would still care. You have been a great friend to me during this whole… fuck I don’t even have words for it. You’ve made my life so much easier, my transition into this unfamiliar situation so much easier. There are people in the world, people around you, that you matter to. Don’t try to pull that bullshit with me.”

He stays silent. I ask my other question. “Why do you think that kiss was a mistake?”

“Because it’s fake,” he says, his voice sounding hollow and hopeless. “That kiss was fake, built on lies and deception. Our relationship is fake, created from half-truths. Your feelings for me are definitely fake, and they’re only coming from the need that you feel to be seen as you are now as opposed to as you were before but it’s _fake_ , Alec! It’s all fake! And none of it even matters because in a couple thousand years we’ll all be dead anyway and nobody will even remember our names or care that we existed in the first place.”

I stare at him. That’s some fatalistic and depressing bullshit right there. “You should probably not be alone right now.”

“I don’t think it really matters,” he replies, sounding as if he’s choking.

“Magnus, I have told you things that even Jace and Izzy don’t know about me. I’m comfortable talking to you and happy when I’m around you. And I’ve… I’ve never been in love before but everybody always told me that I’d know it when I felt it and I have no idea what else it would be. So why are you pushing me away? I’m not asking you to love me, only to accept that I love you. That you are worthy of being loved. Why is that so hard?”

Magnus is quiet, just looking at me sorrowfully, and just when I think maybe he’s not going to answer, he murmurs something I never expected to hear.

“Because you remind me so much of him,” he says. “You look like him and you talk like him and you act like him and it hurts to look at you but I can’t stop. And you’re so beautiful and you just… absolutely terrify me. Because I want to know you and I want to love you and I want to be around you but there’s a barrier. All these feelings that I have about him, I can’t make them go away, and I can’t force them on you because that’s not fair, so they fester and they linger and I… I’m just a hot mess, Alexander.”

The name comes as a bit of a shock. He hasn’t called me that in a long time. And I know now that it means something – when it comes to Magnus, so does everything – but I don’t know _what_ it means. To him, at least.

Why does my relationship with Magnus seem to revolve around a dead man I’ve never even met? It occurs to me that I don’t even know his name.

“You’re broken,” I whisper cautiously, “but I’m broken too. I thought we were helping each other. At the very least, you were helping me. And I fell in love with you in the process, and when I told you as much, you vanished. So tell me… was I wrong?”

“You were,” he says simply.

I’m getting irrationally angry. “Magnus, we’re going through hell together. Okay, fine, it’s more like I’m going through hell and I dragged you down with me, but still… after everything that’s happened in the last three months, don’t you trust me?”

Magnus looks sad as he quietly replies, “obviously not enough.” He closes the door in my face.

I don’t try to stop him this time. I just stand there, rejected, tired, and a little heartbroken. I stay there for a very long time.

And then I go home.


	12. Ch. 11 - Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All my loves are Shadowhunters, and that’s a dangerous thing to be. They are mortal, and I am not, and I must be prepared to accept that I will one day be forced to live without them.  
> But not today. Today I hold my little sister because I have to protect her.  
> I have to protect Alexander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where that Magnus Bane & Isabelle Lightwood tag really rears its head. It's worth it, guys. Magnus and Izzy are the best!

Isabelle is the next to appear at my door. I hear her knock and I can’t think who besides Alexander would be visiting me at this time, and I seem to have discouraged him from coming back over.

Not that I blame him.

I compose myself a little before I answer. I pull the door open and am genuinely taken aback when I see her.

“Magnus,” she greets curtly. I internally groan.

“Hello, Izzy,” I say.

“You know what I’m here for.” She practically spits the words in my face, defiant to the end, just as I’ve always known her to be. She stares into my face for a moment, then shoves past me to sit on my couch.

“Do come in,” I mutter sarcastically as I close the door and turn toward the inside of my house. I sigh and move to sit across from her. “Yes,” I admit. “I know why you’re here.”

She appraises me disapprovingly. “He’s miserable,” she informs me. “He’s mopey, always sulking, avoiding Jace and I… he gave you a wide open doorway and you walked right past it!” She says that line like she’s been wanting to say it for days. “Why?”

“I can’t keep lying to him, Isabelle. It hurts too much.”

She looks disappointed. I sigh quietly.

“I try not to lie, as much as I can, and I try to justify it to myself by wording things in such a way that I’m not _technically_ lying, but it still hurts, it’s still immoral, and when we heal him, he’s still going to hate me for it. I don’t even know if it’s worth it at this point. Even if he does get his memories back, I doubt he’ll come back to me.”

She leans forward solemnly. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“The bad,” I request meekly.

“That’s so _selfish_!” she exclaims, almost bursting, like she physically can’t hold the words back. “He doesn’t get to get his memories back just because it benefits you! There are so many other people who have been affected by this situation. You’re not the only person who loves him. And besides, he deserves to get his memories back because the loss of those eight years is tearing him apart from the inside. How could you even…” she trails off, looking away from me and running her hands through her hair, obviously aggravated.

I stare at nothing.

Eventually, I say “you’re right, Isabelle. I- I’m so sorry. That was inexcusably selfish. I’m so, so sorry. I should be thinking about Alexander right now, not myself.”

She sighs and sits down next to me. She wraps her arms around me and murmurs, “oh, Magnus, I love you.”

“What’s the good news?” I ask timidly. She looks at me fondly.

“Alec will always go back to you. Even when he doesn’t know it he loves you so wholly and desperately and all-consumingly… I don’t know if he’s capable of living without you. He’s told me on multiple occasions that he doesn’t know how he got through the first seventeen years of his life. When he gets his memories back – and he _will_ – he will come back to you because he doesn’t have a choice. He loves you more than you could possibly conceive.”

I smile and hold her tighter.

“Thank you, Isabelle,” I whisper.

“Anything for Alec,” she replies.

“Amen,” I mutter.

And she just hold me tightly, like my own little sister, and I keep her close to me, because deep down I’m afraid.

Someday she’ll be gone. Alec will be gone, and Jace and Clary and Sandshrew and Rafe, all the people that I care about, and it will just be me and Max someday.

The thought of that day terrifies me, but I have to be ready for it. All my loves are Shadowhunters, and that’s a dangerous thing to be. They are mortal, and I am not, and I must be prepared to accept that I will one day be forced to live without them.

But not today. Today I hold my little sister because I have to protect her.

I have to protect Alexander. After Isabelle leaves, I call him.

“Hey Magnus,” he answers after one ring, sounding somewhat caught off-guard.

“Hey,” I reply. “Alec, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, and he makes it sound as if he genuinely means it, and then he hangs up and pushes my door open. He comes over to me and tells me again that it’s okay, and for a brief moment, it is.

Isabelle was right. My Alexander really will come back to me.


	13. Ch. 12 - Alec & Isabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was the most remarkable person you’ve ever met?”  
> He blinks, utterly uncomprehending. “What?”  
> I take a deep breath, the smile sliding off my face. “Your ex. The one who was loyal and intelligent and dedicated and loved his family more than anything else in the world. You said he was gone and I just kind of assumed that meant he was dead – you did say he was a Shadowhunter, after all, and many Shadowhunters die young – but he’s not. He’s not dead.” As I talk, Magnus’ expression changes and I can tell he sees where I’m going with this. “That was me. Wasn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alec figured it out. This is why Magnus loves him so much - he's fucking crazy smart.

Magnus and I catch up for a while. It’s good, to be able to talk to him like this again, without worrying about it, without waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’d missed him.

But at a certain point, he becomes more subdued, less involved, and much more somber. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on, and I tell him as much.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something very difficult, as if he’s made a hard decision and he’s forcing himself to follow through.

“The day we kissed, you told me there was nothing I could hide from you that would prevent you from loving me. Did you mean that?”

I suck in my breath, but I answer honestly. “Yes. Yeah, Magnus, I did. I’m sure that you could make me feel angry or even betrayed but at the end of the day I’d still come back. I’ll keep coming back, again and again, because like I’ve told you over and over… I’m in love with you.”

He nods in comprehension and continues. “When Izzy filled you in on the more general details of those eight years, she left something rather important out. I asked her to, because I was afraid it would hurt or confuse you. But there was an aspect of your life that we withheld because we wanted you to have the quickest recovery possible. But I don’t think- I’m not comfortable hiding this from you anymore.”

I hold up my hand. “Magnus, hold on.” He looks up at me, and I’m grinning a little.

“Yeah?”

My smile gets bigger and more self-important, and I say, “I was the most remarkable person you’ve ever met?”

He blinks, utterly uncomprehending. “What?”

I take a deep breath, the smile sliding off my face. “Your ex. The one who was loyal and intelligent and dedicated and loved his family more than anything else in the world. You said he was gone and I just kind of assumed that meant he was dead – you did say he was a Shadowhunter, after all, and many Shadowhunters die young – but he’s not. He’s not dead.” As I talk, Magnus’ expression changes and I can tell he sees where I’m going with this. “That was me. Wasn’t it?”

He sighs quietly and then nods, after a long moment. “Yes. That was you. I loved – I _love_ – you more than anything in the world. And all those stories I told you about him, those are all real things that you did. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for me, you would have given up everything to be with me, and I don’t know how I got you, how I got anyone – but especially a Shadowhunter – who cared enough about me to sacrifice everything you’d worked for your entire life for me. And our sons-”

I’m suddenly angry. “I have _children_?” He looks up at me through eyelashes sparkling with tears.

“Two boys. Max and Rafael. Our oldest named for your brother, murdered by Jonathan Morgenstern in Idris during the Mortal War, and our younger for my good friend Raphael Santiago who gave his life for mine. You used to sing lullabies to Rafe in Spanish. We talked to them in Spanish and English and weird hybrids and combinations so that they would learn both languages somewhat equally. After you disappeared, Max used to ask me, ‘where’s daddy’ every night before he went to bed. He missed you so much, and I could never really give him a satisfactory answer.”

I stare at him for a while. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to say to that. I’m also so conflicted. I want to be with Magnus and I want to be a father to my children but I also am so angry that this was hidden from me in the first place.

I can understand the love behind it, though. They were afraid I’d tear myself apart in agony over knowing that I loved these three people but not remembering it and morally not being able to justify being in their lives.

I’m not looking at him. I’m staring straight ahead, trying to process all the things I’m thinking and feeling. I turn back to Magnus, running my hand through my hair.

“You said something to me when I woke up. You- you said ‘Aku cinta kamu’. What does that mean?”

He inhales stiffly, looking resigned. “It means that I love you,” he answers softly. “More than I thought I would.”

Somehow that’s the right answer. I wonder if he’s said that to me before.

I take a long, deep breath. I steel myself for the words I know I have to say, no matter how much they’re going to hurt.

“Magnus,” I whisper regretfully. “Magnus, I can’t be with you.”

Magnus inhales sharply but doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “I want to. Oh, I want to, Magnus, but I just can’t. I can’t justify it. I don’t remember any of the things that you want me to remember. I don’t remember meeting you. I don’t remember falling in love with you – the first time. I don’t remember our first kiss or our first time or our first ‘I love you’. I don’t remember. And until I do, I couldn’t live with myself if I engaged in that relationship. You know all the things, and I don’t. I want to stay good friends with you until I get my memories back, but for now… it can’t be anything else. Please, please understand. It’s not that I don’t want you, I do, I just want to be what you deserve.”

Magnus looks at me with remorse and understanding and so much love in his eyes. He looks at me as though he wants to kiss me and hug me and carry me to bed all at once. He looks as lost and hopeless as I feel.

“I wish it wasn’t like this,” I murmur brokenly. He nods in agreement.

“Me too, Alexander. Oh, god, me too.”

#  **Isabelle**

Clary, Simon, Jace, and I are training. We do this sometimes, when things feel particularly bad or hopeless, just to take our minds off shit – we’ll all go into the training room together and we’ll spar. We usually do punching bags, then a Tournament of Champions (unofficial title courtesy of Simon), then punching bags again as a cooldown.

Today, I’m the one who won the tournament (we have a huge whiteboard in there, too, so we even make nerdy brackets for our tournaments). I’m beating up on a punching bag pretty damn hard, and I’m amazed that it hasn’t burst yet. I’m trying to get my rage out, but the other three aren’t even working out anymore; they’re just watching me with a confusing mixture of awe and vague concern on their faces.

Finally, I give up on the distinctly _Lightwood_ pursuit of bottling up your emotions and refusing to talk about them until they fucking burst out of you and destroy everything in your path. (We’ve got this emotional health thing down to a science, as you can tell.)

“We need to talk about Alec,” I say commandingly, still punching the bag, just slower and with less anger.

“What’s going on with Alec?” Jace asks, then as an afterthought adds, “besides the obvious.” I sigh.

“It’s the whole thing with Magnus. Both of them are miserable.” I stop punching and turn to face them. “Magnus is miserable because he hates lying to Alec, and Alec is miserable because Magnus is being fickle, cryptic, and manipulative. I just… I feel like we should tell him. We don’t have the right to hide this from him, do we?”

It’s silent for a minute. Jace is the one who answers. “Iz, you were the one who said it was Magnus’ call in the first place, and he made it. He was the one in that relationship, and he knows Alec better than any of us.”

I pull off my hand wraps. “Maybe so, but Magnus is not some emotionless monster. That decision could easily have come from a place of fear. And may I remind you, Magnus knows Alec better than any of us, but he also loves him more than any of us.” I walk down the steps and drop onto a bench. I inhale deeply, because I’m about to admit something I don’t want to have to say out loud.

“Magnus told me something the other day. About Alec… before.” I inhale again, trying to calm the voice in my head that’s telling me that I shouldn’t be saying this. “Alec proposed to him once.”

Clary and Jace both gasp quietly.

“And Magnus said no. He rejected him because he believes that Alec deserves a legal Shadowhunter wedding and he wasn’t able to give him that at the time.” I look at my friends. “He could now. They could have their wedding. I think that Alec deserves to know.”

They’re all agreeing with me. And as hard as this decision is, I’ve made it, and I need to follow through.

I pick up my phone and, with shaking hands, tap his name.

It rings.


	14. Ch. 13 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy takes a deep breath, then says, “before you lost your memories, you used to be dating Magnus.”  
> I stare at her for almost a full minute. “This?” I cry, then burst out laughing.

Magnus is looking at me like he’s afraid he’s fucked everything up with his confession. He hasn’t, but I don’t know how to tell him so. I’m just trying to find the right words when my phone rings, sounding unbearably loud in the quiet room.

I pull my phone out shakily and check the caller ID. When I realize it’s just Isabelle, I feel so much more comfortable. I try to steady my voice as I answer.

“Hey Izzy, what’s up?”

“Alec,” she says, her voice serious. “Can you… can you come back to the Institute? We need to talk, it’s kind of important?”

My playfulness drops right out of my voice. “Izzy, what’s wrong? Is everyone okay? What’s going on?”

“Can we just- can we do this in person, please? It’s harder over the phone.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

There’s silence for a moment, and I’m worried she’s hung up on me. But then she whispers, “I love you so much, Alec.”

“I love you too, Izzy,” I tell her sincerely, and then there’s a soft _click_ as the line goes dead.

“Magnus,” I say, turning to him with regret written all over my face, “can you Portal me back to the Institute? I don’t know what’s going on, but it sounded important, and she sounded kind of scared, so… I’m sorry. I’m sorry we have to end this conversation now, but can I come back like, tomorrow and we can talk more?”

Magnus smiles, forced but soft. “It’s a deal, Alexander.”

I cock my head to one side. My voice is soft and it isn’t until I have already asked the question that I realize I’m completely off-topic. “You called me that, didn’t you? That was your go-to term of endearment. It was my nickname, or something.”

Magnus’ forced smile becomes something slightly more genuine. “And you loved it, too. Whenever I called you ‘Alec’ you would correct me.”

I smile softly at him and I know I shouldn’t but I can’t quite help myself – I lean down and I kiss him gently, briefly. It’s only a moment, but it’s sweet and it clears my head.

When I pull away, I say, “so about that Portal…”

He waves a hand and it appears next to him. “Thank you, Magnus,” I tell him. “Thank you so much.”

And then I step through it into the Ops Center. Clary, Jace, and Izzy, who are standing by the tactical maps holo-table, all jump when I come through. I stride right up next to them and look at Izzy expectantly. “What’s happening?”

My brain, in full-on panic mode trying to figure out what’s gone wrong, takes note of the fact that Simon isn’t there. Is that the problem?

“Where’s Simon?” I pant. Izzy looks at me sideways.

“On a mission,” she replies casually. “Jace wanted to go with him but I told him it was a job best suited to one person.” She smirks at her brother, “and since I’m the head of the Institute, he had to obey me.”

Jace groans loudly. “Shut the fuck up, Iz,” he admonishes her, acquainting his forehead with the holo-table in an overdramatic show of embarrassment.

“Anyway,” I say impatiently, “why did you need me to come over here?”

Izzy’s teasing ends abruptly and her expression becomes solemn. “Can we go somewhere else to talk about this?” I nod, and follow her into the training room.

As I enter, I look around at all the weapons, targets, punching bags, and practice dummies that litter the room and ask rhetorically, “why do all of our important conversations happen in the training room? And why is nobody else ever using it?”

Izzy just shrugs and sits down on a bench. Jace and Clary follow suit. I don’t.

“Alec, we… we haven’t been completely honest with you about this- this situation. The memories thing,” she clarifies, just in case I wasn’t sure (I was).

“Okay…” I prompt.

“Um… I’m not quite sure how best to say this to you.” Izzy looks to her friends for help. Clary holds up her hands in a ‘don’t ask me’ gesture and Jace’s advice is “don’t sugar-coat it.”

Izzy takes a deep breath, then says, “before you lost your memories, you used to be dating Magnus.”

I stare at her for almost a full minute. “ _This_?” I cry, then burst out laughing. Because that is not where I expected that to be going. I thought something horrible had happened, like our mom was dead, or Clary had cancer. (Serves her right, the goddamn carrot.) I wasn’t expecting Izzy to tell me the exact same thing I’d just learned from-slash-figured out in the presence of Magnus.

Izzy leans toward me, looking concerned. “What’s funny?” she asks. I take a few deep breaths to calm my laughter.

“I know,” I say, and her face lights up with alarm. “Magnus told me.”

“Magnus _told_ you?” she demands incredulously. “When?”

I shrug. “Well, it was more like I figured it out because he’s not exactly… subtle. And about twelve minutes ago, right before you called me.”

She just stares at me, and something in her expression sobers me up real quick. I sigh and sit down on the floor in front of her, cross-legged. “I don’t know how to feel about it, really,” I confess. “On the one hand, I’m kinda pissed off that nobody told me that _I have two sons_ for _four motherfucking months_ , but on the other hand… I can see the love that went into that decision. I understand why you did it.”

“Alec, you don’t have to filter your thoughts. We know we fucked up,” Jace tells me, so I mentally pull my filter off.

“Fine,” I say sharply. “You want to know what I really think? You didn’t have the right. You – all of you – had no right to hide this from me. It wasn’t a choice you got to make.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Look, I lost eight years of my life, and I’m trying to piece that shit back together from fractured dreams and stories I’ve heard thirdhand. I thought one of you would have the decency to tell me everything, but I guess you’re not the people I thought you were.”

Izzy flinches as if I’ve slapped her. I want to punch something. I’m in the training room, so I do. My footsteps echo softly as I jog across the room and the sound of my fist hitting the lead bag is like a gunshot in the silent room.

“Maybe that was too much honesty,” I admit. Then I sigh. “I’m not even angry. Not really. I’m just… very confused. Why wouldn’t you tell me? I deserve to know what’s in my past… don’t I?”

“Alec, we just wanted to protect you,” Izzy murmurs, eyes still bright with tears.

I bite back the snappy retort I want to make. I look at each of them again and I realize just how harsh I’m being. “God fucking-” I mutter, striding out of the room. I just can’t handle this much bullshit right now. I go to my room.

I might just need to be alone right now.

I might just need to cry.

Or maybe I just need Magnus.


	15. Ch. 14 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, and I appreciate it. But you and my sister don’t need to protect me. I can do that myself. Besides, that’s not your job. My job is to keep the four of you safe, and your guys’ job is to kick demon ass and look fantastic doing it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was originally Izzy, actually, in earlier drafts, but I really needed the moment of Simon telling him that he had had a similar experience (a nod to the reason that I almost didn't write this fic in the first place - there's already an amnesia storyline built into the canonverse). So here you go. I feel like it's slightly more forced, but it's also cute. This is your Alec Lightwood & Simon Lovelace moment.

I’m all cried out when Simon comes in. I’m not facing him, just sitting on my bed and staring angrily at the wall opposite the door. I don’t acknowledge him. He came here because he has something to say to me, so I wait for him to speak.

“Izzy told me what happened,” he offers a little meekly.

It reminds me a little of that day, weeks ago, when Izzy came in here to comfort me after Magnus made it seem as though he could never be able to love me.

Except that was Izzy, and this is Simon. Except that then I felt vulnerable, and now I just feel cold and betrayed.

I’m a little surprised that Simon, of all people, would come in to talk to me, although he and I _have_ gotten along very well these past months. He had the least hand in this deception, so I find that I don’t mind him being in here at all, really.

He sits down on the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry, Alec,” he says quietly. “After they realized that you didn’t remember him, he dragged Izzy outside and asked her not to tell you. She just… she just felt like it was his choice. It was his relationship, not hers. She trusted him to know, to make an informed decision. She trusts him. We all do, when it comes to you especially. He was worried that having that information might slow your recovery. He didn’t want to tak that risk.”

I still haven’t moved or even looked away from the wall. But when he stops talking, I speak for the first time since I left the training room. “Was I… was I in love with him?” I ask quietly, brokenly, even to my own ears.

I know what Magnus said about how I would have sacrificed everything for him, but I need more people’s perspectives. After all, perspectives are all I have to go on. I don’t have these memories.

Simon sighs and shifts a little closer to me. “You really were, man. You were desperately, hopelessly, all-consumingly in love. He- he meant everything to you. And everyone could tell. I mean, the way you talked about him, the way you looked at him, even just saying his name… I can’t really describe it, I’m not that great at this whole _English_ thing-”

I laugh a little at that. “I can relate,” I tell him, and he smiles and continues his story.

“But it was almost as if, just by having him in your life, you were… you were made of pure joy. You just _radiated_ love and hope and warmth and it was a whole other side of you that neither Jace nor Izzy had ever seen before. And they both told me, you know, during that eight-year gap, that they’ve never seen you as happy as when you were with him.”

“He puts a hand on my shoulder blade, a little awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he offers sadly. “We shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“But you did,” I say quietly. After a beat, I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. He looks a little nervous – maybe nervous isn’t the right word, like _on edge_ – as if he thinks I’m about to blow up again, just like I did in the training room to Jace and Izzy. I want to dispel that fear. “It’s the choice that you made, out of love and fear for me. I can accept that. It’s whatever, Si. Who cares? It’s in the past. All is forgiven. At this point all I can do is focus on the future.”

His face splits into a golden smile and he beams at me. I grin a little in response in spite of myself, and he hugs me tightly. I hug him back. And then I realize, sitting here in my bedroom, hugging him, that I love this kid. I love Simon just like… just like I loved Max.

He’s my new little brother.

When he moves away from me, I really look at him. I take a good, long look where I memorize every feature in his face – the lines of his cheekbones, the precise shade of his eyes, the lazy disaster that is his hair. I used to do this with Jace and Izzy before they ran missions without me so that, in the event that one (or both, but I didn’t like to think about that) of them didn’t make it back, their faces would be immortalized in my mind forever. It was both a coping mechanism and a way of assuring myself that they would be okay, and they still haven’t died yet, so I count that as a win.

I reach out and take his hand. I’m not really afraid to be casually affectionate with Simon, because he understands me in a way few other people do.

“I love you, Simon,” I tell him seriously. He looks surprised. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, and I appreciate it. But you and my sister don’t need to protect me. I can do that myself. Besides, that’s not your job. _My_ job is to keep the four of you safe, and your guys’ job is to kick demon ass and look fantastic doing it.”

He laughs a little and I grin at him.

“Okay,” he says, and he seems subdued again, “but who looks out for you? Who watches the watchers, Alec?”

I sigh and look back at nothing. “I think it was Magnus.”

Simon wraps his arm around my shoulders in a friendly gesture of camaraderie. I look at him and he looks up at me.

“Was he in love with me?” I ask quietly, a follow-up to my first question.

He exhales a soft puff of air, looking melancholy. After a brief quiet spell, he answers. “Yeah, dude,” he says candidly, genuine earnest showing on his face. “Still is, to be perfectly honest. He’s crazy about you, and I do mean _cra-zy_. He hated himself for lying to you. It’s why he broke contact. He’s miserable that you don’t remember your entire relationship, he’s miserable that he had to make the choice that he did, and he’s miserable that you’re so fucking broken over it.

“And look, man, I’ve been where you are before. I sacrificed my memories to Magnus’ father so you could all go home. I get it. I’m not asking you to forgive him right now, but… at least try to see his side? Cut him a little slack, Alec. It was a hard decision for him to make, and he sacrificed a lot to try to make your life easier, even if, in the long run, it was the wrong call.”

“I’ve already forgiven him,” I admit. “And you. And Izzy and Clary and Jace. I’ve never really been one to hold a grudge. And besides, I didn’t actually _tell_ Magnus that I was pissed off, I… I was too scared that he wouldn’t understand why, that if I yelled at him he wouldn’t want me around anymore.”

I smile at him, and he smiles back. He jerks forward and hugs me again. Damn, this mundane is clingy, not that I mind… much. “I love you so much, Simon,” I whisper into his hair. “I really, really do.”

“Love you too, Alec. Like the big brother I always wanted. And whatever you need, I’m here. I’m always here for you. Just like Jace and Izzy and yes, even Clary.” I give a breathless laugh at the implication in his words.

I just pull him as tightly as I can against my body without breaking his spine and I have a thought.

“I want my eight years back,” I breathe to myself.

If I’m being totally honest with myself (I’m not, often), I have for a while, but with everything else going on it just sort of failed to register. But I need them back. I need to fill the hole.

“What?” Simon asks. My whisper was so quiet even I could barely hear myself, let alone Simon.

“I want them back,” I repeat, only marginally louder and still not really talking to him.

He stares at me for a minute then shrugs. “I love ya, big brother, but sometimes you and I speak entirely different languages.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Do what you need to do, you know I’ll stand with you.”

I hug him again, gratefully. “I do know that,” I agree, smiling hugely. “I gotta go.”

He looks on confusedly as I practically sprint out of the room. I have a plan.

I just need to talk to someone first.


	16. Ch. 15 - Alec & Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wait- that’s the whole plan?” she asks in a tone laced with skepticism. After I nod, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Wow, that is a really bad plan. Just… truly awful.”  
> I shrug. “Well, it’s better than no plan, which is what we had last time.”  
> She shakes her head in denial. “No, that plan might actually be worse than no plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure adorable Alec for a good 650 words and then it's just straight-up Alec being badass because get this - Alec is a badass motherfucker. I need to put that in the tags.

“Catarina Loss!” I call. It’s dark by now, and I’m standing in an open city block of dog paths and playground equipment – along with a tree or two – with my hands shoved into the pockets of my black leather crop jacket.

Angel, am I an _emo_.

“Alexander Lightwood,” a female voice remarks coolly behind me. I whirl around to face her. “What can I do for you?” she asks, spreading her arms mockingly.

Jace or Izzy would’ve made a joke. I am not my siblings, and I don’t have the time. “You’re a friend of my… of my ex’s, right?” The word ‘ex’ tastes foul in my mouth.

“Which one?” she asks, sounding utterly disinterested. Before I can answer, however, she smacks her forehead playfully. “No, of course! You were the Lightwood who only ever had the one boyfriend, I remember now. Yes, I’m close with Magnus Bane.”

I exhale audibly, relieved. “Oh, praise the Angel. Did he, by any chance, tell you about the last demon he summoned?”

“A little,” she replies, shrugging. “Something about a Greater Demon, emotional parasite… it was about five months ago he mentioned this to me. He also said that it was a memory demon, although that’s not very specific since there are almost 18,000 of those. Nothing specific enough to summon it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It is what I’m asking.” I hand her the large stack of articles, newspaper clippings, and pages of notes that I nicked from the grandiose Institute library twenty minutes previously. “This is all of Clary and Jace’s research into the demon from the last five months. Could you summon it with this?”

She looks at me dubiously, but steps into the circle of light cast by a streetlamp and scans the papers. After several minutes, she nods approvingly.

“Can you summon it?” I ask again.

She looks up and regards me curiously. After a long moment of scrutiny, she says, “you have a plan?”

“I have a plan,” I confirm.

“Explain to me the plan.”

She starts to walk, and I follow her, and I explain.

***

After about five minutes of walking, we arrive at a fifth-story apartment in Queens, just as I’m finishing my explanation. When I stop, there’s almost a full minute of silence, during which Catarina stares at me expectantly. Af about 50 seconds, the look of expectance morphs into a look of incredulous disbelief.

“Wait- that’s the whole plan?” she asks in a tone laced with skepticism. After I nod, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Wow, that is a _really_ bad plan. Just… truly awful.”

I shrug. “Well, it’s better than no plan, which is what we had last time, and that ended with… well, this.”

She shakes her head in denial. “No, that plan might actually be _worse_ than no plan.” She pauses. “Ah, but what the hell. I’ll summon you a memory demon. _But_ ,” she emphasizes, then waits a second to make sure I’m paying attention. “ _You_ will deal with it. This is your problem to fix and your mess to clean up.”

I shake my head in frantic agreement. “Of course,” I say. “Thank you so much.”

She just dips her head in acknowledgement. “Anything for Magnus’ happiness,” she replies, and I smile at her. I’m liking her more every second.

“On that, we agree.”

***

So we summon a demon.

Complete with pentagram, creepy candles, and warlock (but unfortunately, not my boyfriend [not that I have one, but if this goes well, I will soon]).

And the room is on fire.

Then the demon is in front of me, and now that it is, now that I’m staring at it, all my rage bubbles to the surface. All I feel is hate for this creature that caused me and the people I love such huge, unspeakable amounts of pain.

Catarina looks on amusedly as I confront it.

“Do you remember me?” I ask it angrily. It looks curiously at me, like I’m the most interesting thing it’s seen in centuries. I’d forgotten the way that its eyes looked just like dying coals. Of fucking course I had.

“I can’t say that I do, young Nephilim,” it replies evenly, with no hint of emotion in its voice. I wonder if demons can even feel emotion. My vision goes red.

“You tossed my entire life into chaos!” I scream at it. “You destroyed the things I’ve worked for my entire fucking life!”

It almost smirks. “Oh, I’ve been stirring up some lovely chaos lately. I exist in six different timelines, you know. Just the other day I did quiet a number on this one lycanthrope-” it pauses suddenly. “No,” it says slowly, “I _do_ remember you. You were that miserable little Nephilim who was so hopelessly in love with that demonspawn, the one whose memories I stole. Oh, they’re delicious, by the way.”

I nod. I take a deep breath to calm my raging pulse, because Shadowhunters are not ruled by their emotions. “It’s so interesting,” I tell it. “You took my memories of him, but you couldn’t erase my feelings for him. Being in love with him is the thing that got me back here. I want my fucking memories back.”

It laughs. “And why do you think I would ever give them back to you?”

“I have one thing,” I say confidently, “that I can give you.” _Please let this work,_ I beg silently. “One thing that should interest you greatly.” _Please, please, please. Raziel, give me strength._

It sounds intrigued. “And what might that be, Shadowhunter?”

 _Oh, thank the Angel._ I make a mental note to actually thank him once I get out of this.

“Love,” I state simply. “I have an infinite resovoir of love.” I exhale slowly. “I have boundless, limitless love for my siblings, Jace, Izzy, Clary, and Simon, my boyfriend Magnus, my mom and dad – well okay, maybe not my dad – and…” I scramble for the names I’m missing, then I remember what Magnus told me. “My sons, Max and Rafael Lightwood-Bane. I have so much love for so many people, and I know that you like to feed off of strong emotions such as love. You sustain yourself on what I have an abundance of, so take some and give me back my memories.”

It stares, and I think I’ve convinced it. It has limited capability for expression, but it looks almost hungry. I think it wants to know if I’m telling the truth.

It waves a hand lazily, and a thick blackish smoke issues from its fingertips.

And I remember things. I can’t process all of them right now because I don’t have time – I’ll do that later – but I see them and I _have them_.

Holding Magnus. Kissing Magnus. A thousand “I love you”s.

Max and Rafe.

I examine each memory for a half second and then I move on. There are so many flooding into my mind, I don’t know what to do with them all.

Somehow, through all the noise in my head, I manage to shout, “Catarina, _now_!”

She told me beforehand that she’d only be able to immobilize the demon for a few seconds, so I only have one shot. That knowledge is the only reason I manage to break free of my trance, propel myself forward, and bury my seraph blade in the demon’s partially incorporeal chest.

It seems to melt toward the floor, disintegrating with a crackling wail that blows out the candles and leaves a dark outline of a pentagram burned – potentially permanently – into Catarina’s hardwood floor.

But I remember everything now. And I’m so relieved (and so damn tired) that I start to laugh hysterically. I collapse bonelessly onto a couch and stay there, unmoving, for a minute until I collect myself.

When I finally do, I take a couple deep breaths to still my heartbeat and then say, “Catarina, can you take me home?”

She’s still staring at her scorched floor, but she waves a hand and a Portal appears. I thank her and step through it, to the street right outside Magnus’ apartment.

#  ** Magnus **

I’m sitting on the arm of one of my couches, closest to the front door, my legs slung to one side. Simon is to my right, sitting properly on the couch, hands folded too tightly in his lap and head bowed. Clary is across from him, resting her elbows on the coffee table and looking everywhere but at us. Across from myself is Jace, whose right hand rests on the armrest, fingers unconsciously stretching toward his phone. Isabelle is pacing back and forth behind me and has been for so long that I’m half afraid she’s going to wear a groove into my floor, if she hasn’t already.

“Where is he?” she demands of us for the umpteenth time. “It’s been _hours_ since he disappeared, he should be back by now!”

I sigh and drop my hands onto my thighs in exasperation so forcefully that they make a _smack_ loud enough to make Clary jump and Jace physically flinch. “We are aware, Isabelle, that he has been gone for hours, and would you _please_ stop being so anxious? You’re putting me on edge, and making it hard for me to appear unruffled and unaffected. I’m sure he’s fine. You making comments won’t help, I guarantee that. You’re not the only person in this room who loves your brother.”

She stops pacing in surprise for a moment, nods, then continues pacing, though, to her credit, she doesn’t futilely inquire after her brother’s whereabouts anymore.

Jace’s phone is on the armrest next to him and he checks it every thirty seconds. His right knee bounces up and down ridiculously fast, the only physical manifestation of his worry for Alec, even though he’d be able to feel if something were wrong. “Please call, Alec,” he repeats in a whisper, and I’m not even sure he realizes he’s saying it. “Please call.”

The room goes silent for quite a long time, during which we all are caught in our own gruesome fantasies of what’s happened to him. Isabelle continues to pace, Jace continues to bounce, and we wait.

I get a text. I pick up my phone and the screen lights up, showing that it’s from Catarina. As I read it, I can _hear_ the mixture of exasperation and awe that Catarina has mastered so perfectly in her years.

 _Your Nephilim really is_ something else _, isn’t he?_

 _Yes, he is._ I reply.

And then the doors to my loft burst open.

#  ** Alec **

I slam the doors to the loft nearly off their hinges. Everyone in the room’s heads snap to me so fast I’m a little afraid they’ll get whiplash. Magnus springs to his feet, staring at me in shock.

I stride into the room confidently, the shadow of a smirk barely noticeable on my lips. As I walk, I strip off my tight-fitting jacket and toss it in the direction of the coat rack. It doesn’t make it; I hear it hit the ground behind me with a muffled ‘smack’ but I could give a fuck.

And then I reach Magnus. In one swift motion, I stop walking, bring my hands up from my sides to cup his jaw, and slam my lips so hard into his that he staggers backward two steps.

He seems to lose himself in the pure fire that is this kiss for a second before he comes to his sense, grabs my wrists, and pulls them away from each other, off of his face, and taking a step backward out of my reach.

“Alec-” he starts, but I cut him off.

“By the Angel Magnus, it’s been five goddamn months. Please, just… let me have this.”

I hear Izzy’s whispered “oh my god” in the background and I see her cover her mouth with her hands out of the corner of my eye. I have to fight not to roll my eyes. She couldn’t have thought I would be content to sit back and chill, not knowing what I was missing.

“Alexander,” Magnus sighs, and I kiss him again. And then nothing matters; nothing matters except Magnus, Magnus who’s here, in my hands, holding me, _loving_ me. And it’s remarkable. It’s so remarkable that we’re both here, together, and we’re so in love, and he’s remarkable to me and I’m remarkable to him. And one of my strong, calloused hands is in his multicolored hair and the other is between his shoulder blades, and his fingers are twisted in my belt loops.

And I just kiss him for as long as I can, keeping him where he is because I like him under my fingers, and then when I need to breathe, I pull away. His forehead thuds against my chest and he sobs my name and I pull him against my body, running my hand through his glittery bisexual hair, and I just hold him as he cries my name, over and over, just my name. Just Alexander, Alexander.

It’s all I want to hear, for the rest of my life.

Eventually, he sits down, and I look at Clary, and I look at Simon. And then they both rush me, practically flying at me at the same time, and I hug them both and I tell them that I love them because I do. I hug each of them with an arm and they bury their faces in my shoulders and I look at my siblings – Jace, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, pretending not to care, and Izzy, looking tired but happy sitting on the coffee table – and I say, “I love you. All of you.”

And everyone is smiling, and I’m here in my house, with my family, and everything’s okay.

Everything is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: add 'BAMF Magnus Bane', 'BAMF Alec Lightwood', and 'BAMF Isabelle Lightwood' to the tags on this fic.


	17. Ch. 16 - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My boyfriend fucking rules,” I note, as if I’ve never realized this before (news flash: I have).  
> Jace and Clary both have immediate and opposite reactions to my comment. Jace snorts and says, “no shit” at the same time that Clary warns me, “don’t say that where he can hear you! He’ll get an even bigger ego!”  
> Magnus turns around and points a spatula menacingly at her, even though his expression is playful. “I hope you know I can hear you, biscuit,” he calls back to us. Clary smiles and rolls her eyes fondly.  
> I fake-glare at Clary and deadpan, “you are talking about the man I love.” There’s a beat, and then all five of us burst out laughing.

The world fades back into color. There’s a very attractive, skinny, glittery Asian man standing next to the couch I’ve sprawled myself across. I smile at him lovingly.

“Hey there beautiful,” I murmur in a low voice.

“Get up, Alexander,” he requests, sounding exasperated (and slightly fond) and smiling lovingly at me. I shake my head, smirking like a little shit and watching him through my eyelashes.

“Mm,” I hum. “Not when you can come down to me.” I reach out with my left hand, quick as a striking snake, and latch onto his right wrist, dragging him forward and pulling him on top of me. He falls, laughing, eyes lighting up, and collapses onto my body.

Then he hums contentedly and buries his face in my shoulder. Because fuck it, we haven’t been able to be this close in four months, we will hold each other all we fucking want thank you very much.

My right hand rests on his lower back and my left hangs off the couch. We stay there like that for maybe fifteen minutes, until we hear his front door creak open. Magnus groans loud enough for them to hear him.

“Tell them I’m not here,” he complains.

“You got it, baby,” I whisper back.

As Izzy, Clary, Simon, and Jace enter, I raise my voice slightly so they can hear me and say, “my boyfriend has requested that I inform you that he is not here.”

Clary leans over the back of the couch, smirking suggestively at us. I stick my tongue out at her. She smiles and goes to sit down with my sister.

I greet my friends without getting up. To Magnus, I say, “do you know what I think, babe?” while smirking hugely.

“What do you think, Alexander?” he asks my shirt resignedly.

“I think you need to make me some food,” I answer, smirking.

He lifts his head up just enough to look me in the eyes. “I find it positively insulting that you don’t intend to help me,” he says, but he doesn’t seem particularly _surprised_ at that fact.

I raise both eyebrows at him. “Magnus,” I begin patronizingly, “you and I both know that I’m almost as incompetent in the kitchen as my sister is.”

“That’s true,” he admits.

His head drops back onto my chest and I smile fakely at my sister. “I love you, Iz,” I call teasingly. She flips me the finger and I laugh.

“I don’t want to move,” Magnus complains.

“I love you, Magnus,” I tell him genuinely, smiling, “but eventually the four of them are going to want to drag me off to work and you’re going to have to get up and be a person who functions in society because I can’t be a Shadowhunter with you laying on top of me.”

He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “I’d rather be a person who functions in you.” He takes a moment to be silent, then, louder, whines, “ugh, do I have to?” I nod.

“I love you, Alexander, but you’re a _buzzkill_ ,” he tells me. I smile.

“I try, darling.”

He sits up so he’s straddling my hips and flips his bright pink bangs out of his eyes. I watch him appraisingly, doing everything I can not to wolf-whistle. “Okay, that was kind of hot,” I remark.

He looks faux-surprised. “I thought I was always hot, darling.” I smack his arm playfully.

“Fuck you,” I mutter.

He pulls a scandalized face. “Alexander, be decent! You can fuck me all you want when your siblings leave.”

I jump up at that, twisting my hips and throwing him off me. “Magnus you little _shit_!” I shout.

He kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs in an exaggerated pout. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Make me breakfast,” I counter. He looks amused.

“You slept very late, Alexander. It’s one in the afternoon.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Okay. Then make me lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, the closest he’ll come to conceding that he’s lost the argument. “Fine, Alexander.”

As he moves over toward the stove, I settle back down onto the couch, sinking into the cushions and almost moaning in pure bliss. I missed this. I watch him over my shoulder for a moment, then turn my head to look at my friends.

Clary and Izzy are sitting in Magnus’ matching armchairs right next to each other, arms hanging loosely over the sides, fingertips just barely brushing each others’, not quite intertwined. Jace and Simon are on the floor in front of them, Jace laying on his back with his head propped up, watching me, Simon laying on his stomach perpendicular to my brother and absently playing with Jace’s hair.

“My boyfriend fucking rules,” I note, as if I’ve never realized this before (news flash: I have).

Jace and Clary both have immediate and opposite reactions to my comment. Jace snorts and says, “no shit” at the same time that Clary warns me, “don’t say that where he can hear you! He’ll get an even bigger ego!”

Magnus turns around and points a spatula menacingly at her, even though his expression is playful. “I hope you know I can hear you, biscuit,” he calls back to us. Clary smiles and rolls her eyes fondly.

I fake-glare at Clary and deadpan, “you are talking about the man I _love_.” There’s a beat, and then all five of us burst out laughing.

Simon laughs so hard that he slams his head into the couch and a cushion falls onto Jace. Jace roars a challenge, picks it up, and swings it at Simon, who ducks, causing it to fly into Izzy’s legs. This devolves into the four of them all hitting each other with pillows and cushions. I watch fondly as they scream insults with no bite at each other. My house is a total shitshow, and it feels like the best thing that’s happened in the past several months.

I roll my eyes at my family who are having an all-out ‘anything goes’ slap-fight in my living room, make a mental note to tell them that they’re cleaning that up before they leave, and vault the back of the deep blue velvet couch with one arm to go stand behind my boyfriend.

I wrap my arms around his waist and he hums gently.

“I love you so much, Magnus,” I whisper into his ear, my neck ever so slightly bent to reach my target. I say it as if I’ve never said it before, because every time with Magnus is like the first.

“I love you, Alexander. So much,” he replies, and I smile.

“No, I don’t think you quite understand, Magnus.” He turns to look up at me.

“What?”

“I love you,” I repeat, “and I want to marry you. And you know, someday I’m going to stop asking you and if you want it done you’re goin to have to do it yourself, so I suggest you consider it _very carefully_ before you give me your answer. Magnus Bane, light of my life, will you do me the honor of being my husband?”

I say this last loud enough for my family to hear, if they really cared that much.

Magnus’ eyes close in what appears to be a moment of total surprise. When they open again, he kisses me briefly. “Of course I will, my love,” he tells me when we separate. “Of course I will.”

I kiss him again, longer this time. It suddenly feels as if I’ve been suffocating for the last five months and now there’s air around me again. I can breathe freely. And I do. I breathe in the form of Magnus. I inhale his love. I just kiss him and I kiss him and I realize belatedly that this is where I really belong.

Here, in a fourth-story loft belonging to the High Warlock of Brooklyn, surrounded by the people that I love. Surrounded by my family.

“You know, you never stop surprising me, Alexander,” Magnus whispers against my cheek. “You and your damn poker face.”

This is so normal.

This is what I’ve been missing.

This is right.


	18. Epilogue - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He strides right up to me and I use every ounce of willpower I possess to fight the urge to kiss him. I can’t do that – at least not yet.  
> I smile at him instead, and his eyes soften the way they do only for me.
> 
> ***
> 
> Magnus and Alec get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the moment we've all been waiting for - the Malec wedding.  
> So, I wrote the first draft of this fic in late-August/early September of 2018, and I wrote the first GOOD draft back before Queen of Air and Darkness happened (spoilers, book fans who are for some reason reading this before reading all the books - Malec gets married in TDA book 3), so this was my take on the wedding.  
> I hope you enjoy. I have a few more things to say at the end, but for now, get to reading.

It’s not too complex. It’s not very elaborate. It’s just a Silent Brother, myself, and the seven people I love most in all the world.

Neither of us wears a dress. Magnus wears a navy blue three-piece with sequins (because he’s Magnus, and I couldn’t stop him, and when he said it matched my eyes I may have utterly melted and kissed him for an hour), and I wear a cream suit embroidered in gold.

I stand at the altar and wait, watching the door. There’s no music, no cue, nothing – Magnus just sweeps into the room whenever he feels like it.

When he does, I smile at him, and I realize once again just how much I love this stupid, frustrating, _beautiful_ man.

He strides right up to me and I use every ounce of willpower I possess to fight the urge to kiss him. I can’t do that – at least not yet.

I smile at him instead, and his eyes soften the way they do only for me. The ceremony goes fairly quickly; we each get runed (Clary modified the wedding rune so that Downworlders could wear it as well, like the Alliance rune) and exchange rings. Then we say our vows.

I’m going first. I smile a little self-disparagingly. “I’m not really a sentimental person, but this is my wedding, and this is the day that I get to be as sappy and ridiculous as I want and NO ONE CAN MAKE FUN OF ME _coughJacecough_ so pretty much everything in my vows is cliché. Just so you’re all prepared.” I take a deep breath and launch into my monologue.

“It was really easy for me to write my vows. I’ve never been great with words – in any language – so I thought it would be difficult, but it wasn’t. I’m indecisive about a lot of things, and even though I pretend to always know what I’m doing and always be in charge, I’m afraid lof a lot of things, too. The one thing I’ve always been sure of, Magnus, is that I love you. And you have never scared me, much as you should, you’re just a generally terrifying person.”

Magnus laughs, and everything is worth it. I live for that laugh. “I just want to have you for all the time that I have left, even if it’s just a week, even if it’s just a day… even if it’s just an hour. Like I said, clichés. Magnus, you’ve changed my life in all the best ways, and I’m standing up here now to prove to you that you mean everything to me, and I do mean _everything_. And… I do, Magnus. With everything I have in me. I do.”

I’m not crying shut up you’re crying.

Magnus is _definitely not crying how dare you suggest such a thing_.

He looks straight at me, as if he’s drawing his strength from my eyes. “Alexander, my beautiful Alexander. When you walked into my party that first night you were doing everything in your power not to be seen or noticed. I could tell from the moment you arrived that you didn’t want to be there. There was no reason I should have noticed you. But, time and time again without fail, you drew my focus, and I’m so glad that you did. This-” he gestures with both hands to the room around us “-is all I ever wanted for you. You are the most beautiful and important thing in my life. You and Max and Rafe are what matter to me. I love you, and I will always love you, even when you’re gone and I live on. It’s not fiar that someday your life will end and mine will continue. It hurts, Alexander, I’m not going to lie. It hurts so much. It’s not fair to either of us. But it is what it is, and I will take what I can get, and until the day Death comes for you, I will stay by your side, if you’ll let me.”

Okay now I’m _really_ not crying.

_Do you, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, take this man to be your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?_

“With all my heart,” I reply confidently, staring into Magnus’ beautiful unglamoured eyes.

_Do you, Magnus Bane, take this man to be your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live._

“Until I lose you, Alec,” Magnus answers.

_Kiss._

We do. We do for a very long time. And extensively.

And when we’re done, our six guests come up to us. Clary and Izzy, hand in hand, and Jace and Simon, each holding a child whom they hand off to one of us.

They had previously told us that they had only one gift for the both of us, and we were mystified. Now, we wait expectantly.

We didn’t get married to get presents (no shit). We got married because we were hopelessly and desperately in love (ya think?). But if it’s one gift from the four of them, we have high expectations.

Clary takes a deep breath, flippin her stele back and forth between her fingers. “As we’ve told you,” she begins, “we only have one thing to give you, but I think you’ll appreciate it.

“The other night I had a dream, and my dream showed me another rune. I haven’t seen any new runes since the entire Sebastian fiasco, but this one is important.” She exhales slowly, then says, “Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane, I present you with a choice. You can continue to live exactly as you are, which honestly doesn’t seem that bad at all, or… you can stop the clock.”

I draw in a sharp breath and Magnus’ hand flies up to my bicep. “Is this-”

“It _is_ an immortality rune,” she confirms, nodding. I gape at her for a minute, then I swallow.

“Fuckin’ Mark me, girl!”

Magnus covers our sons’ ears and shoots me a heatless glare. I roll my eyes. “Please, Magnus, don’t be a hypocrite. They’re going to pick up so much foul language from you that they’ll know strings of expletives in English, Spanish, and Indonesian by ten. Cut me a break.”

Clary giggles and pulls up the top piece of my suit, inking the rune onto the plane of my stomach. There’s no pain like there is with some other runes, only a faint tingling sensation.

And then it’s done. I don’t feel any different, but whatever.

It doesn’t matter, because my family is here. My sons are here, and my husband is here, and it’s all I need right now.

“Clary, you have given us a gift that we can never repay,” Magnus tells her.

“Well,” she reminds us, smiling widely, “you do have forever.”

“Yeah,” I reply softly, smiling at my husband. “We do.”

I’m so blissfully happy.

Fade to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. That's the whole thing. You experienced it in a day, but for me, this was almost a year of hard work. I wrote out the first 10-chapter draft, reread it, realized it was TERRIBLE, tore all those pages out, rewrote it, realized it was still bad, and typed it up, including adding an entire 3-chapter storyline. That chapter where Alec collapses in the middle of a murder mystery didn't even emerge until THIS DRAFT. Can you believe that?
> 
> One of the things is that I never write in present tense, and I very rarely write in the first person. But when I started the first draft of this, it was third person past tense and it just didn't feel right. It was just kind of weird, and it didn't sit right with me, so I rewrote it like this, and it worked. So basically what I'm saying is that this story decided how it would be written. If you didn't already think that writing was magical, here's some extra proof.
> 
> But the thing I really want you to know about this is that I tried really hard to make these characters real. Clary and Jace and Magnus and Simon and Izzy and Alec are all real people. They're full, complex human beings, who have loves and joys and pet peeves and vices and they make mistakes. This fic is, ultimately, about people fucking up and other people forgiving and loving them anyway, because that's what makes us human. I worked really hard to make that come across.
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed this, because I had so much fun writing it. I love every single one of you who read this, who left kudos, who commented. You're amazing. Thank you so much.
> 
> Love,  
> Quicksilver ("Silver" to my friends, and you are all my friends. Call me Silver if you want.)


End file.
